Infinite Shades of Grey: Genesis of the Wolves
by Itanu
Summary: Many know of the Rowdyruff Boys, the only ones to ever truly defeat the Powerpuff Girls. This is the story of how they came to be who they are now. Flames are welcome.
1. Genesis of Invocation

Well, people, here it is: the reposting of the reposting of the very first chapter of my very first fanfiction article.

It came to mind that this prologue was not necessary to the plot of Infinite Shades of Grey: Genesis of the Wolves. It said nothing that actually advanced the story, and served only as more or less of a guideline for those not familiar with the Powerpuff Girl setting. However, I read over the story and "The Powerpuff Girls Never Lose" as the first story just doesn't work for me at all.

I realized quite a few of the mistakes made earlier in the original version of the story, so I corrected them in the reposted version. However, there was still the problem of the chapter being too short. In the middle of the synopsis of the PPG movie, I cut it off by saying, "…in a turn of events too quick to register…" which comes to show what a lazy slob of an author I am.

Hence, I am reposting it a third time. Hopefully, the correction of some of the errors will make this chapter more enjoyable to the few people who were actually reading this, and for those who happen to pull up this prologue, I want this to be an enjoyable experience, with a plotline easy enough to follow.

Okay, let us move on with the disclaimer, shall we?

I am, in no way of any sort, personally or economically affiliated with Craig McCracken, and, as such (or even if I did) have no ownership or rights to the public marketing of the Powerpuff Girls or any affiliated characters of the Powerpuff Girl universe; I intend to make no profit of this. I am naught but a simpering little teenage boy using his literacy skills.

Well, with that said and done, let's get it started in here. If anyone has suggestions for improvements, I'm all ears. If you hate the story, then flame it if you want. If you do, though, you will only be wasting valuable seconds of your life on something that apparently isn't worth the effort. It's your choice.

* * *

In the city of Townsville, chaos and order are both controversial issues. Evil has long been conducted here, and it has had permanent effects; merely thirty years ago, a very strong, competent Mayor was elected into office, and the city boomed in success.

Now, no one knows exactly when it happened- before he was elected or after- but the city became (or had become) subject to attack from monsters, black market operations, and terror.

Just ten years ago, the same Mayor who had kept the city together so well for two decades began to go senile with distress, and could no longer hold the city together alone. Even with the help of Miss Bellum, his assistant, any attempts to hold the dying city together only barely succeeded. He, along with anyone who had the strength to stay in Townsville- or lacked the resources necessary to leave- prayed for help, and just six years ago, they got it: the Powerpuff Girls. This does not mean to say the citizens of Townsville recognized this immediately, though.

Created unintentionally by Utonium, a local professor on the outskirts of town, the Powerpuff Girls were supernaturally powerful females, all six in human years.

Blossom is the one with pink eyes, flowing, long, orange hair, and a pink blouse. She is an intelligent, curious figure with far more reasoning than most her age in human years. However, her weakness lies in her obsession with fashion, and she is the most egotistical of the girls.

Buttercup is the one with light-green eyes, black hair combed down and curving upwards at each side of the head like the signature horns of Lucifer, and a light green blouse. She is the rash, impulsive, malevolent one, and she lives to destroy nearly _anything_ she doesn't like. Of course, the other girls were no better, but they think a little about what they're dealing with; Buttercup, on the other hand, charges straight for the problem.

Bubbles is the one with faded blue eyes, yellow hair with pigtails on each side, and a blouse to match her eye color, like her sisters. She is the innocent one of the group, optimistic to a fault. To her, the world is a playground, filled with perfect people, beautiful songs, and perfect bonds of love, both platonic and romantic.

These girls were generally well received upon immediate introduction to society, and had no intent to undo this. However, they eventually found themselves rejected by the general public due to a series of accidents of their fault while playing a game of "tag". This, as well as their disproportionate bodies and supernatural abilities, earned disdain from the local citizens of Townsville, and the Mayor himself. These girls' benevolence was a weakness, and they continued to be berated over and over again, due to their lack of will to fight back at the prejudiced public.

The rainy day after they played tag and ruined the city, they had arrived at the house they had learned to be their own, but could not find a way in. They tried to take shelter from the rain via alternate means, only to be attacked by the Gangreen Gang, a violent group in association with the black market. Of course, being new to the world, they had no idea how to defend themselves.

A chimpanzee, one Mojo Jojo by name, with intelligence dwarfing that of a human, had been nearby, and assisted the girls in escaping the gang. As it turned out, he, too, suffered the pain of ostracization, due to his high-quality mind and non-human figure. The girls, sympathizing for his loneliness, offered to assist him in whatever way they could. Mojo took up their offer.

Together, the girls and Mojo built a large, towering building on a mountain in the local park, which Mojo would take residence in. Mojo, grateful for their assistance, gladly offered to sneak them into a zoo. The girls now took _his_ offer.

However, it turned out horrible. The humans still ostracized the girls, and the girls, as usual, did not fight back. Mojo used a camera he had with him to take pictures of multiple primates at the zoo, except for humans. The girls returned home afterwards, only to find their father neck-deep in legal issues, due to the destruction they had caused.

The very next day, millions of non-human primates, all with high intelligence, invaded and crushed the city. It turned out Mojo had taken control of these creatures, and set them upon the city, along with the rest of his plan.

The girls realized they had been manipulated. Like a drill to screw in a nail, they had been used as tools in a higher plan.

Mojo publicly announced on that day that the girls had helped him in his plan. The girls, unable to explain to the Townsville citizens- and alas, their own father- that they had been tricked by the simian, flew off into space.

Soon, though, back on Earth, the Mojo's whole plan fell apart. Each of his minions wanted to lead the new antihuman empire for her/himself, thus causing the apes to betray Mojo, as well as fighting among each other. Enraged that his plan had fallen apart, Mojo traced back his troubles to the professor, whom he decided was, in part, responsible for it all. Enraged, he captured the scientist/engineer, and threatened to kill him.

In space, the girls fought among themselves. Buttercup and Blossom were sharing a relationship of mutual hatred. Each one had refused from then on to interact again. Bubbles cried and grieved relentlessly.

But soon, their chance of redemption was at hand. Bubbles felt the radiation of fear of Professor Utonium from Earth after only three hours in space. Upon this, Bubbles managed to get her sisters to soothe their feuding so they could feel the energy waves themselves. Blossom and Buttercup did so, and upon this, the girls returned to the surface of Earth.

First, the feminine powerhouses destroyed the feuding simians, and in the process, Blossom and Buttercup agreed to put aside their petty differences. After this, the girls tracked Mojo Jojo, about to toss the professor into the volcano on which they had been manipulated to help him build his laboratory. The Girls saved the professor from the grotesque fate Mojo had in mind and will.

After this, the girls turned to Mojo Jojo, and beat him down savagely. They granted him no mercy, gave him no consent; they were absorbed in protection of the very humans who had rejected them, and the salvation of their own repute.

Mojo Jojo eventually managed to absorb some Chemical X, grow to a gargantuan size, and even offered the girls a chance to side with him, to be his allies. The girls refused, and caused Mojo Jojo to lose his Chemical-X powers. After that, he was taken away to prison to face Townville's weak, yet potentially detrimental justice system.

When they were done, the girls sought to eliminate their powers, to be rid of the very supernature that had earned them society's scornful eye. However, the entire city was filled with regret for their mistreatment of the girls, even the Mayor himself. The girls were idolized, celebrated, asked for forgiveness and autographs alike, and they were granted the task of taking care of Townsville from that day forward.

Since then, the city has prospered. Crime and monster attacks are handled before any casualties are ever caused, destroyed by these malevolent angels within mere minutes of their starting. As protectors of the city, they are loved and supported by those whom they protect. They are provided with the best education, sustenance, prices, gifts, and shelter that could possibly be mustered; any accident or infidelity they committed would be forgiven, compensated for, and forgotten. The reason they received such respect was that they conquered all evil and all flaws, so good would prevail over evil; that was the way they and everyone else thought.

The world was black and white, and you were fully aware of which side you were on. If you were on the black, no matter how you ended up there, you would surely be annihilated by the white. There were no shades of grey, or variation in opinions; it was all absolutes.

These little girls were unstoppable as soon as their career of city-cleansing began. No one would defeat them. No one could defeat them. As Blossom, their leader, once declared, "The Powerpuff Girls never lose!"

It was these words that, upon being heard, would invoke the inspiration to make the very weapons that would end their rights to pride.

It is here our story begins.

* * *

Well, there you are. You have just read a trip to memory lane, the original "Genesis of Invocation" document.

I hope you enjoyed that. If you review, please point out any errors, and I will update the story. Flame me all you want, if you wish to.

Until next time, audience!

* * *


	2. The Powerpuff Girls Never Lose!

All right, here is my repost of the second chapter of my story. Thank you very much, reviewers; those few notations were enough to grant me the drive to continue onward. I will attempt to make this chapter a little more descriptive than the last one, and like the last one, I will try to correct every flaw I can find. Of course, my last chapter featured "the" confused with the word "they," so I'm not exactly one for spellchecking.

As said before, I have decided to dedicate this fanfiction story to the canonical adventures of the Rowdyruff Boys. This is to say that every canonical appearance they have made in the show, along with some in-between events, will be included and described in this story. I will do as I find possible to stay true to the advents of the boys themselves, though I may end up changing and adding a few lines. Also, I warn you there is mild profanity in this, so be prepared.

Well, with that out of the way, and the (hopefully) understood disclaimer statement, it's time to rock and roll. Now, here we go.

* * *

The City of Townsville, 7:56 p.m.

Harry Bobsworth was one of the happiest fellows one could meet in a city as unfortunate as Townsville. Despite all of the monster attacks, gangs, megalomaniacs, and resulting debt, to him, the world was wonderful. He was grateful for the city's new protectors: the Powerpuff Girls. Ever since the birth of Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup only two months prior, anyone or anything with the audacity to harm Townsville or its human inhabitants would be crushed by these little pint-sized powerhouses before anyone could suffer anything more than a broken limb- except for the attackers themselves, of course. With this in mind, he felt secure as one could be without being locked in a safe.

Today, however, he was particularly happy; he had just gotten a new job at a high-level computer-manufacturing establishment, and the manager seemed more than impressed by his upbeat attitude and common courtesy. He had a good academic record, and a good resume to compliment it.

"Yo, Harry! What's going on, brutha- I haven't heard from you in ages!"

Harry pulled the phone away from his ear upon the word "Harry," as the "Yo" had stunned him and passed too quickly for a reaction to be mustered. Quite frankly, he would not be shocked to a fault if just about everyone on the bus had heard it.

Despite this, Harry couldn't help but chuckle a little at his friend's reaction to his voice. After about two seconds, he pulled the cell phone slowly back to his ear, almost afraid to answer for sake of his eardrum.

"-Sigh-… I'm fine, Serna. I'm just riding a bus from a job interview… and it's only been two weeks. There is no need to yell so loudly." Harry waited for a response for a second, though, with the fear of another sonic boom coming through the phone, he wasn't exactly in a hurry for a response.

"Ah-ha-ha… two weeks is good enough for me, brutha. So how you been?" Serna asked, this time staying within the sound barrier.

Harry sighed with relief. "Eh, pretty good. A bit bumpy of a work life, but that's how the cookie- OH MY GOD!"

BB-ZZZZ-MMM-BAM!

Harry, as well as everyone else on the bus, was stunned at what had just happened. Just outside the window, across the street, Mojo Jojo had just used a gun at least the size of his body to incinerate a parked buggy.

"What is it? What's going on? Answer me, DAMN IT!" Serna yelled across the phone.

After about two seconds, Harry finally realized his friend still on the other line. He quickly pulled it back to his mouth. "Look, I'm gonna have to call you back; bye!"

"WHAT THE FU-"

"Mwa-Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Whatever stupid and most inferior of persons to leave out their vehicle, which is to say a vehicle that is brown, short, and of the Buggy variety, which is to say their own, which is that which I have just destroyed, will be no longer able to take home food and payment to his or her family, thereby resulting in total STARVATION! Mwe-he-he-he-he," cackled a maniacal Mojo Jojo (all within the span of a mere ten seconds) in a state of triumph. He would have rather destroyed the car with the driver in it, but he wanted to leave people alive to suffer the fruits of his labors. Besides, he thought, ripple effects were so much more fun to inflict and watch.

Mojo Jojo, the malice-driven, supernaturally smart chimpanzee, who had attempted just two months before to take the city down to its knees, was recognized throughout the city as a monster. Even with the Powerpuff Girls nearby for protection, Mojo Jojo struck fear into the heart of any man or woman unfortunate enough to find themselves in his presence.

He was, indeed, a quite menacing figure- he had a blue outfit with projecting shoulder blades, with a flowing, purple cape clinging to his shoulder span. Any skin on his body with no hair over it was revealed to be an olive-green color. His intelligence had either caused or was the result of a sudden overgrowth of his brain, which very visibly stuck out of the top of his head. Mojo always wore a white, semi-capsule cap upon it for protection, with purple patterns giving the appearance of eyes that pierced into the soul of any who looked upon it.

To compliment this, he was even more frightening in the damage he was capable of inflicting. He often had some sort of weapon or machine of his creation with him when he ventured from his tower in the middle of the local park. It was with these weapons he would attempt to crush Townsville, for reasons known only to him.

After what must have been thirty seconds of self-admiration, he turned his attention to a bus across the street, which had stopped in place, due to a paralyzed driver, and noticed the passengers had already begun to fall out single file.

He held up his new weapon model, and took aim with it. It was an X-Melt type 15, an unwieldy, yet powerful shoulder mount used to melt and eventually incinerate metal. A 1 ½ -meter long cannon made of blood-red metal, it rested on his left shoulder, small, circular holes decorating the barrel rim. He pulled the trigger, letting loose a green, electric stream of energy. After being encased in the energy for five seconds, the vehicle exploded, leaving behind not a trace.

Mojo marveled at the destruction; all the humans had evacuated the vehicle, but he was, nonetheless, proud of what his new weapon was capable of. He turned and shot a building, which, while not made of metal, still showed an effect; after three seconds of heating up, the area upon which the beam was concentrated ruptured, chunks of the wall falling and crumbling, damaging the sidewalk as they hit the ground. Mojo was surprised at his weapons capability of this. He was trigger-happy at the moment, and did not really expect the ray to have any effect on igneous rock, though he was not at all complaining. His lust for destruction, for ruination of human life, was being gratified.

He then shifted the gun to rest on his right shoulder, and shot at a very flattering statue of the mayor mounted on a rearing stallion. It, like the vehicles, exploded, and, again, nothing larger than a chip of rubble remained. Mojo then proceeded to shoot at several more buildings, which, being of nonmetal material, did not overheat, but still lost some bits of their walls, as did the previous one, and a few more vehicles, none of which having anyone in them upon explosion.

Mojo was overwhelmed with joy. He had planned this for years; humanity would finally pay for how he had been treated for so long. "At last, revenge is-"

He was cut off by a familiar sight; overhead, three streaks, one pink, one light green, and one light blue (the latter being nearly impossible to make out against the sky). He inwardly cursed; this was probably going to be one-sided, but he wouldn't go down without putting up a good fight.

Immediately, each girl dived down at Mojo, and split up. Buttercup went for the X-Melt 15's barrel, the weapon still rested on Mojo Jojo's right shoulder. Mojo quickly managed to dismount the gun from his shoulder and jerk it to the left just as she closed in, saving the weapon from the green firework by a few centimeters of distance. Blossom then zoomed in from his left flank and attempted, like Buttercup, to hit the gun from the side, which projected forward from his chest. Mojo managed to pull it into an embrace just as Blossom zoomed by, missing Mojo himself by barely half a meter. Bubbles then tried to ram into the hat encasing his brain, and Mojo just barely managed to pull down his head to avoid the streak.

Now it was Mojo's turn to strike. He pulled the gun into his right hand, and, without mounting it on his shoulder, turned to his left and shot at Buttercup, who just barely managed to pull down as the beam went over her head; she probably would have been hit, had he taken the time shoulder-mount the weapon. Mojo then remounted the gun onto his shoulder and opened fire to his upper-right, where Bubbles had been subsiding. She managed to pull to the left, as the beam almost grazed her elbow. Mojo then shifted the gun to his left shoulder, took aim with the built-in eyepiece, and fired forward, straight at Blossom. She jerked to her left so her back was parallel to the beam; a few of her long hairs were just barely singed at the tips. She looked down, took her own aim, and fired at the X-Melt 15 with her own eye lasers. Mojo immediately jumped back and let go of the gun as the rays hit it, melting his creation to a hot, viscous, liquefied puddle before him.

Mojo was now without any form of armament. He was completely vulnerable to the Powerpuff Girls' fury, living target practice for their pleasure. He relaxed himself forcefully, knowing it would only hurt more to put up feeble resistance.

Buttercup zoomed into his left side, and punched his jaw with near-lethal force. Shock, then soreness, and, finally, sting joined in to form pain.

As Mojo flew through the air, he managed to mutter, "Curse you-" WHAM!

Bubbles kicked him in his thigh, another surge of pain spreading through his body. The force pushed out his diaphragm, causing him to wheeze out the next two words.

"…Powerpuff…Girls…" Mojo managed to cough out, before Blossom elbowed him…PUR-TUEM… square in the chest, sending him flying ten meters.

In prison once again, Mojo thought to himself. Soon it was his turn to have his identity number taken, along with his fingerprint. Finally, after all that, he was thrown brutally into his cell.

As soon as Mojo hit the cold, hard floor, he got up and ran to the cell bars, grasping them just as it closed. Mojo stuck his face through the bars, and started to speak in a manner that, while seemingly directed to the prison guard, was meant more for his own ears than anyone else.

* * *

The City of Townsville, 8:00 p.m.

BBBRRRRRRZRZRZRZRZRZ-BANG!

A building had just been quite literally cut in half by a beam shot from Mojo's newest invention, which now hovered above the city, right above the penumbra of the industrial area.

This new contraption was a sort of anti-gravitational piece of machinery. The main body was the dome which usually sat atop the large mountain in which he lived and studied. The projected lens which usually served as the telescope had been modified to a window with which Mojo could see the outer world he was destroying, and the main control room of the observatory had been changed to the cockpit. The satellite normally mounted on the top of the observatory had been melded to the into the bottom of the hovercraft, and now shot a fine stream of energy, which, instead of melting or overheating an object like his previous, shoulder-mounted weapon, actually cut clean through anything it was fired upon, like knife through butter.

Mojo cackled upon the sight of the buildings, cut like a block of Colby Jack cheese by a hot knife. Out of the corner of his screen, he noticed military units closing in on him. Some jet bombers were coming in at the right of the hovercraft. A hedgehog was aiming at Mojo just to the front-right of his vehicle, with six missiles at the ready, each one at least the size of the satellite at the bottom of the craft. To his left flank, three mariner tanks closed in, their barrels at the ready.

"Oh, so you think you can stop me, Mojo Jojo, with mere military junk scraps? Mwe-he-he-he-he! This will be most entertaining…FOR ME! MWA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"

Each of the military units opened fire upon the vehicle; the jets released six homing missiles each, the hedgehog released the six gargantuan explosive missiles, and each tank released one napalm shot.

Mojo felt almost insulted for the lack of challenge. He turned to his right and fired with unnaturally precise aim at three homing missiles, causing them to explode. He then turned his attention to the explosive missiles and shot at one, causing an enormous detonation. He then turned his attention to the Napalm, and shot at each.

The shots at the Napalm bombs caused an anticlimactic, dissapointing boom for each one. The other projectiles, however, gave a bit of a show. The explosion of the explosive missile earlier had set a chain reaction in the other five, making a giant, spectacular firework. When Mojo had fired at the homing missiles, the explosions threw three of the other missiles off course, making them lose the homing signal and moving in wild, airborne patterns. The remaining missiles mistook the misguided ones as their targets, and soon the missiles had all zeroed in on one another, forming another intricate light show.

"Ha! Your inferior and worthless human creations cannot match my mechanical mastery!" Mojo exclaimed victoriously.

"Finally, after so many years of planning, humanity now suffers my experiences! How do you like seeing your homes destroyed out of pure malevolence, filthy humans?" Mojo exclaimed victoriously, aware no one could hear him anyway… at least, not his words. "At last, revenge is-"

Mojo then saw something familiar on his eye screen- three streaks of light came into the screen, stage right. Pink, light green, and sky blue, now graced the dusk sky.

"WHAT?" Mojo exclaimed as he slammed his hands at each side of the screen, looking on in disbelief.

As soon as they had appeared on-screen, the girls disappeared into the left side of it. Mojo knew they wouldn't leave him alone now that they had caught him slicing up the town, especially near the industrial section of the city. He spun the craft and eye around, desperately looking for the girls so they wouldn't catch him by surprise.

After about two minutes, Bubbles appeared right in front of the eye, and caught Mojo's attention. Mojo knew it would fatal to lose sight of her, as she and her sisters could then crash into the vehicle and pull it inside out, or just incinerate it. Bubbles flew slowly overhead, as Mojo kept an eye on her, charging the beam and taking aim. After moving a full 180 degrees, Bubbles stopped in mid-air.

"Yes…just…like…that…" Mojo said, concentrating on the levitating Bubbles while adjusting his aim. Just as he was about to press the fire button, Buttercup flew up from below, delivering an uppercut that threw the lens off, and caused the entire machine to become unstable. This force continued to resonate throughout the metal and inner systems for the span of a minute, and it continued to vibrate until Mojo's screen went completely black, and Mojo himself could barely tell up from down. Despite the dizziness, Mojo had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen now, and readied an escape pod.

Blossom then grabbed the satellite gun by the bulb, not considering the risk of the beam. She then began to spin around in circles to gain speed, aimed for the sky, and released.

Mojo felt himself becoming weightless, and knew, as he had expected, he had been hurled into space. Just before getting into the escape pod he released four words:

"CURSE YOU, POWERPUFF GIRLS!"

Once again, he was in prison. Those stupid little girls had spoiled his chance to right what is wrong, once again. They thought it wrong for him to retaliate, but they could hurt him in any way they wished. These blood-boiling thoughts filled his mind as he had his ID taken once again, his fingerprint taken, once more, and, finally, his freedom taken away from him… again.

The City of Townsville, 7:21 p.m.

CRUNCH…CRASH…BOOM!

"Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha," Mojo Jojo cackled in his new creation. It was a giant, anthropomorphic robot built in rather vain resemblance to him. It large, black arms and legs with no defined joints, though each limb ended in four, properly jointed digits. The "body" bore a close resemblance to his face, and the cockpit was contained in a large, plexiglass dome, modeled after his head cap.

Mojo was using his new robot to crush anything he could- cars, houses, even the local clock tower.

"Mwe-he-he-he-he-he," after about ten minutes of city-crushing, Mojo broke into a maniacal laughing fit, which lasted about two seconds.

His moment of victory suffered an interruption- the same thing which had destroyed all of the hopes and dreams he had set into action before. Those three, dastardly, familiar streaks had zipped right in front of the cockpit, as if to draw his attention to his now imminent defeat.

The three girls then split up. Blossom went behind him, and corkscrewed downward out between his robot's legs, and up to the front of the cockpit. Mojo made a feeble attempt to crush Blossom between the mechanoids hands as she reached alignment with what was apparently supposed to be the "mouth" in the body frames resemblance to its creators face, but she simply accelerated just before the thumbs collided just a meter behind her. She then punched the plexiglass of the cockpit, which, surprisingly, had no effect on it.

Mojo thought he had finally made something the girls were not prepared for, and leaned back in his chair, waiting for the child superheroines' next move. Just because of the fact Blossom could not penetrate the plexiglass, he thought himself to be invincible. This was the most moronic assumption he had ever made in his entire life.

Immediately, as if on cue, Buttercup and Bubbles zoomed off in the distance as soon as Blossom had punched the plexiglass.

"Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha," Mojo laughed to Blossom, who was still in front of the cockpit. "Your sisters have panicked, fled, which is to say they have abandoned the gaming field, meaning they realize my imminent victory, so now you are alone!"

Blossom simply smirked. "Oh, really?" she asked in a patronizing tone, her arms crossed, still levitating.

Mojo was infuriated by this. "YES, REALLY!" he exclaimed, slamming his clenched hands down onto the control panel.

"Well, then, Monkey Boy, I suggest you look down," Blossom said, nodding to the ground. Mojo did this and saw what she was referring to. A long telephone wire was stretched out in front of his robots feet; Bubbles held one end, and Buttercup held the other.

Before Mojo could summon an appropriate reaction, Blossom 180'd behind the robot.

"Sayonara, monkey boy!" she stated nonchalantly. And with that, she pushed the dome forward, causing the robot to fall forth. Mojo tried to flail the robots arms in a vain attempt to regain balance, but to no effect.

The robots legs hit the telephone wire, and toppled down to the cold, hard ground below. Upon contact with the asphalt, the plexiglass broke, sending Mojo tumbling and rolling out onto the road for five meters, until he finally came to a stop, face down.

The girls landed right in front of him, waiting for him to do something to give them an excuse to finish him off. After laying face-down and lifeless for six seconds, he slowly lifted his face up off the ground, looking weakly at the three girls before him.

"You should just give it up, Mojo!" exclaimed Buttercup, her arms crossed.

"Yeah, you'll never beat us… so there," Bubbles said with her hands behind her back. She proceeded to do a raspberry. Mojo flinched as the droplets of spit squirted onto his face.

Finally, Blossom, with hands at her side, joined in. She raised her arm, struck into the air triumphantly, and exclaimed, in full confidence and pride, "The Powerpuff Girls never lose!"

The words of each of the girls flooded his mind as the procedures were done. What if the girls were right? What if he was destined to be denied his vengeance for as long as he lived?

His identity was taken from multiples sides, again.

_You should just give it up, Mojo!_

His fingerprint was taken and put onto the carbon paper.

_Yeah, you'll never beat us…so there!_

He could still feel that cold, filthy human saliva on his face.

_But not nearly as cold or filthy as a human heart_, he thought.

Finally, he was thrown into his cell, with the same brutality and roughness humanity had treated him with since he was taken from his home. He remembered those final words, that final sentence, said so proudly by the wretched leader:

_The Powerpuff Girls never lose!_

That was the last straw. His face turned red, his blood hot with madness, rage and emotional uncertainty. He then snapped; intelligence and discipline left his mind.

He screeched in a manner no one had ever heard before. A high-pitched squeal crossed with a thunderous roar was the only way to describe it. He continued to screech as he destroyed everything he could, losing all control. He pounded the cold, concrete floor with fists clenched, his anger numbing him to the pain. He bit on the cell bars, denting them lightly. He ran to the back of the room, kicked over the sorry excuse for a bed the cell provided, and then punched it back into place. He continued for thirty minutes, frightening everyone in the building; even the guard was terrified of this never-before-seen temper.

By the time it was over, Mojo had lost all his energy, and had fallen into a restless sleep. But, just before this, he managed to whimper out four last words:

"Curse…those…-sniff-…Powerpuff…Girls…"

So, what do you think? I wanted to make doubly sure this chapter would be long, descriptive, and grammatically correct, and the chapter took me six hours straight to write, reiterate, proofread, reword, and proofread again when I first wrote it. Once again, while I do not demand any reviews, they would still be welcome. I also hope the profanity didn't ruin the entire thing.

In addition, my excuse for this taking a long time is even less possible than most of the time; it turns out, after proofreading it once, that this chapter has the least errors of all the chapters, as far as I have seen. Of course, I am about as good at finding errors before it's too late as Jason Griffith is at doing Sonic or Shadow... okay, maybe I am not quite THAT bad (I miss Ryan Drummond and David Humphrey so much... sniff). Still, I'm not good at finding my errors.

Expect to see the next chapter reposted in due time; however, I, like Harry, have an academic life to attend to, and that is my top priority. I will update as soon as possible, I assure you.

Until next chapter, fellows!


	3. Bad Dream, New Idea

Thank you for your reviews, everyone; once again, they provide to me the inspiration and extra inner drive to continue onward with my story.

All disclaimers implied, let's get on with this chapter. This one had more errors in it than the previous two chapters combined, as I read over it.

Well, let us move on with the disclaimer, shall we?

I do not own Mojo Jojo or the Powerpuff Girl Universe. All aspects of the Powerpuff Girl continuum are trademarks and copyrights of Craig McCracken. Now, here we go.

* * *

Mojo panted and wheezed as he made his way through the nightmarish prison. Fear was the only thing that kept him from falling from exhaustion, along with the knowledge that, if caught, he would be slaughtered by these wretched beasts. His heart sent a surge of shock and pain throughout his body every time it pumped in or out. Similarly, every time he breathed, especially upon exhalation, his lungs felt shredded and torn, the stinging, upturned flesh rubbing against the scars. His arms and legs felt like they had long strands of steel wool sawing in and throughout them, moving back and forth along the striations of his skeletal muscle.

Death has, since the dawn of life itself, back to the very first Prokaryotic organisms, been a factor all animals have at least vaguely identified with, feared, and kept at bay in any possible manner, be it through fight or flight. Mojo himself was no exception, and all he knew now was that somewhere behind him, at a distance ever decreasing, ever dwindling, which only happened faster if Mojo stopped for breath, were some God-betraying, evil forces were pursuing him for whatever their purposes may be.

"Where's that little bastard?!" Called one voice. Another voice responded to this: "That thing can't run forever. We'll get it!" The voices of the attackers behind him were suddenly starting to fade for some reason or another, but this was not going to give Mojo the thought of slowing down for a second wind; he had to get as far as he possibly could from these monsters.

Mojo was horrified, confused, and could hardly tell where he was going. Why were they doing this, he wondered? What were they gaining out of this? Did the death and slaughter of his species provide these matt-furred apes enough sadistic pleasure for the death of just one chimpanzee to be worth the effort of the hunt?

A sharp spur of pain in his ankle interrupted his train of thought. His foot had just been caught in a space between the ropes of a net, laid across the forest floor as if it had been waiting for him.

He yelped as he was pulled to a tree branch with the wad of manmade vine. Mojo tried to struggle, to yank himself free, but to no effect. He knew that whatever was pursuing him was going to catch him, now that he was stuck on this object. He had no guarantee of it, but judging from the alien structure of this weird vine, he could only assume this was one of those monsters' creations. He stopped struggling, out of energy, all hope and ambition having left him. He was in the hands of those wretched stalkers now.

* * *

Even sooner than Mojo had predicted, the matt-haired apes ran out from the grey abyss. They seemed to materialize out of the fog as they approached, their black silhouettes slowly regaining their alien colors. At about four meters away from the spot at which Mojo had been caught on the net, they stopped in their tracks, and stood silent for about five minutes, panting for breath and exchanging compliments and congratulations with one another.

Mojo had just begun to close his eyes when one of the attackers grasped the net Mojo was caught in. Apparently, while Mojo was tiny, miniscule, and frail, the takers were each almost as tall as the sapling tree Mojo now hung from, and the one who was grabbing the net used his long arms to unhook the rope knot from the branch.

After dislodging the net from the limb, the three then headed back to their van, their conversation carrying on as it was before, the hunter who had taken Mojo in hand seemingly oblivious to the fact he had a frightened, paranoid, baby chimpanzee shivering in his hand.

Mojo could hardly understand this species. After all the trouble of hunting him, for what he, only a few minutes ago, assumed to be the thrill of the hunt, they drove him into a trap. Now, they did not have the decency to actually kill him now that they had caught him. But, then again, he was still alive, and as such, they apparently did not _want_ to kill him. They had massacred his family, yet for some reason, he was more use to them living than dead. Mojo was never going to understand this ape, but he did know that, if they were keeping him alive, his fate was probably going to be far worse than death.

Mojo didn't know what they were going to do to him, but he certainly didn't want to find out. He noticed, at that moment, that his head, neck, and right arm were free and untangled. Then he got an idea; it was suicidal, but what choice did he have? As a sort of last-resort escape measure, he turned around and bit into the side of the man carrying him, his canines sinking in until they drew blood.

"OH, GODDAMN IT!" the man exclaimed, releasing the net- and Mojo- as he put his hands on his wound, now serving as mouth of a river of blood. The other two hunters turned around upon hearing their fellow's scream, and, seeing him bleeding all over his side, rushed to his aid.

"What happened to you?" the leader inquired.

"That little son of a bitch bit me!" replied the wounded hunter, still clutching his wound.

"Neat…" another hunter said, getting the leader's attention.

"What's neat?" the leader asked.

The other hunter said nothing. Instead, he nodded to the trail of footprints leading back into the forest, and the pile of ripped, muddy rope lying on the 8th footprint set.

The leader ran over to the rope and picked it up to examine it. It was torn and muddied beyond reparability. He turned back to the bleeding one, eyes blazing with annoyance, disappointment, and barely-anchored rage. "You let it go?!"

"What would you do if you were bitten two inches away from your ba-"

"That thing took forever to chase, and that net cost a quarter of what we were going to make on that thing! How could you lose it?"

The two continued to argue for about fifteen minutes. The standby hunter just shrugged, lit a cigarette, and watched the show while sitting on a tree stump.

* * *

Mojo panted for breath. When he had bit his captor, the net encumbering him had been dropped. While the hunter was clutching his side, Mojo had untangled himself, and was long gone by the time the other two came to the side of their fellow. Latter to that moment, he had run for six straight minutes, as fast his limbs could carry him forth.

At the seventh minute, though, he had run completely out of breath, and was now taking residence in a large bush. There he rested his weary body, his heavy lids upon his eyes, and contemplated the events since this morning.

Eight minutes later, he heard voices echo throughout the forest.

"You can run all you want, you little bastard," yelled one, whom he recognized as the one he had bitten the thigh of. It continued, "But you can't hide! You should just give it up- we're going to get you anyway!"

Then another voice chimed in, though, rather than yelling like the previous one, it sounded to be speaking with a slightly raised voice: "He has a point, little fella- no matter what you do, you can't leave us permanently alluded. You should accept that, and stop resistin'!" Mojo felt a droplet upon his face- it had started to rain at just that moment.

He then heard a clinking sound to his left, and looked up to see the leader of the troupe, holding a metal stick to the head of the chimpanzee. Mojo didn't try to flee or even back up- he was cornered, at the non-existent mercy of the poacher. Mojo looked on, stunned with fright. The hunter looked Mojo in the eyes, both annoyance and victory obvious in his own eyes.

He smirked nonchalantly. "We never lose the hunt," he said, emotionlessly, coldly, and with minimal audibility. He raised his thumb upward, turned off the safety, cocked the rifle out and back into position, aimed at Mojo again, and…

BAM!!

* * *

"WHA-" Mojo exclaimed as he shot out of bed, hyperventilating like a puppy on steroids. He looked around, and saw there was no hunter, no gun. He put his hand over his chest, and felt the heartbeat, surging like a stampede of Thracian horses. Mojo sighed with both relief and nervousness, with a little disappointment in the mix- quite frankly, despite his fear of death, he would not at all mind getting shot in the head right about now, the way things were going for him.

He laid down again for two minutes, which seemed like an eternity, insomnia preventing him from falling back asleep. Finally giving up, he got off his bed with another sigh, and moved his stiff legs to a cell corner, next to the bars. He took a seat next to the steel columns, looking to a window near the roof on the other side of the hall. The moonlight shining through the window cast the bars' shadows upon Mojo, which, in coordination with the horizontal stripes of his prison uniform, created a sort of checkerboard pattern on his body.

Mojo sat in pure silence, though he was weeping internally. He felt countless negative emotions- anger, fear, sorrow- yet hopelessness was all he cared to touch. He heard all sounds of a prison night- the chirping of the summer crickets, the snoring of the prisoners, the song playing on the warden's radio- yet he listened only to the white noise of the air.

Mojo was in no hurry to go back to sleep. He had this exact dream every night if his life since the incident it portrayed had happened. This dream was not just something that he had _almost_ every night, nor was it just generally the same ultimate outcome- he had the _exact_ same dream, _every_ night, since its occurrence. Haunting him like a demonic doppelganger, ever hateful, ever spiteful of what little he ever had to be happy about, denying him the sleep that so many others could honestly say to be a peaceful moment.

However, he pondered something. Up until now, the dream had always ended with him being thrown into the back the cargo hold of the poachers' moving van, and finding his dying mother in it. After Mojo held his mother in his arms for about five minutes, the leader would come up to the back of the van and slam the door shut without uttering a word, though a contemptible expression on his face was very distinct. The door would close, the hold would go completely black, and Mojo would wake up. Tonight, it had ended in him escaping the group once captured, only to be found and shot in the head by the leader.

He remembered what each one had said tonight, and found all of their comments familiar. He pushed each comment through his head, then again, and once more. It came to him in a flash of realization.

After running for a few hours, he had tripped and been caught in a net.

_Just like that telephone wire Bubbles and Buttercup had held out before him..._

The one he had bit had said (or yelled, as it were) that Mojo should just give up the hunt.

_"You should just give it up, Mojo!" exclaimed Buttercup, her arms crossed._

Another one, the calm, less talkative of the group, had said that no matter how many times he escaped, it would only be temporary, and Mojo should just accept that and remain a sitting duck. A rainy downpour had started at that exact moment.

_"Yeah, you'll never beat us… so there!" Bubbles said with her hands behind her back. She proceeded to do a raspberry. Mojo flinched as the droplets of spit squirted onto his face. _

The leader, while looking into his eyes, had mentioned that the trio never lost the hunt... just before he pulled the trigger on his rifle.

_Finally, Blossom, with her hands at her side, joined in. She raised her arm, struck it into the air triumphantly, and in full confidence, exclaimed, "The Powerpuff Girls never lose!"_

It was so painfully obvious what had happened- his anticlimactic defeat earlier that day, and the girls' proud comments afterwards, had affected the dream; the influence of their words and actions upon his mind and soul were of such magnitude that they had affected a lifelong nightmare.

* * *

Mojo sighed contemptibly. He hated those little children. Every time he set out to avenge his family, to erase that nightmare that plagues his mind ever so, he ended up in this prison, or some other, maybe even worse fate he would escape by only a hair of luck, his lust for vengeance unslaked. As of this minute, he did not feel hopelessness, shame, or sorrow; in its place, his soul burned with ambition and malice.

"Those accursed, wretched Powerpuff Girls," Mojo murmured.

"It seems every time I make a new invention, a new masterpiece of a weapon, I am foiled, and my creation ruined, and my lust for revenge, unslaked and unsatisfied. They always defeat my plans- I need to devise a new plan so diabolical, so sinister, it will bring those tiny _titans_ to their knees," he said, spitting out "titans" like venom.

He plotted and thought for a few minutes, yet anything he thought of was useless and unoriginal in the long run.

"Oh, WHAT'S THE POINT!" Mojo yelled, slamming his clenched fist into the cold, concrete floor. "Anything I do is useless, an unnecessary waste of time, resources, and effort!" Mojo put his hands into his face. He just had to accept it; these girls were going to follow him and deny him his vengeance. Just like that nightmare, keeping him from gaining pleasurable rest at night, following him like a malicious doppelganger...

"Wait…" Mojo said to himself, forcing his mind to think that over again, like a detective replaying the records of a security camera.

"A malicious doppelganger…" Mojo echoed, this time with an idea formulating in his ever-misunderstood mind.

Then it hit him. "THAT'S IT!" he said in sudden realization.

"I need to beat them at their own game," he gasped, as if to officially confirm his idea. "I need to fight fire with fire!"

"I need-" he paused for a second, thinking of how to form these doppelgangers. He got an idea potentially audacious enough to work. His face beamed with a grin.

"I need to make a phone call," he finished. "Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-"

"Hey, SHUT UP IN THERE!" a voice from a neighboring prisoner said, obviously annoyed and kept awake by Mojo's ramblings.

Mojo wanted at first to argue back, but that could wake up the entire prison, and most of the prisoners were thugs who gladly would- and could- set themselves onto and crush Mojo's body as soon as morning came, and he didn't want to die- at least, not anymore. He managed to silence himself laughing, but still could not help but to release a small chuckle.

* * *

Well, there you go. I know, it was a lot shorter than the other chapters, but I have academics to attend to, as well as a personal life. I realize this chapter took fairly long in comparison to the other two, in the first version, and its shortness is probably still an obvious disappointment.

In any case, I hope this chapter will be satisfying for now, and I hope you enjoyed my solving of the errors. This chapter had more grammatical flaws than any of the other three put together. I assure you the next chapter will be far longer and more complex than this one.

In the meantime, please review the story- your praise can really give that extra boost of motivation, and any criticism you have to offer is a donation of advice to help me improve my writing. Besides, I am pretty sure there are still a few things I messed up on and/or errors I may have overlooked, so I would very much appreciate if you pointed that out for me.

Until next chapter!


	4. Dreams, the Call, and the Configuration

Well, here is the reposted version of the fourth chapter of my story. Amazing how long it took, isn't it? As soon as this chapter is posted, I'll get to work on the fifth chapter of the story, "Waking Up, Breaking Out."

In any case, let us continue. This chapter will hopefully be a little more enlightening than the last one, and far less angst-ridden. In this chapter, the Utonium household receives a phone call from a "curious stranger," who inquires Professor Utonium about the birth of the girls. We all know who this stranger is, of course (who else could it be), though we will skip the scenes in which he actually gathers the ingredients.

Much of this chapter will follow the Powerpuff Girl's dreamscape advents, and their average morning. The main purpose of this is to add humor and color to the chapter, as well as cuteness, action, their relative misunderstanding of the functions of the world, and the overly protective nature of Professor Utonium. This will also show how the Powerpuff Girls think and act, and this, in turn, lets you get a little bit more of an idea of how this connects to "Infinite Shades of Grey."

I claim no ownership to the Powerpuff Girl universe, the Dexter universe, or any affiliated characters, terms, events, or objects. Mojo Jojo, Blossom, Buttercup, Bubbles, Chibi Bunny, the huggability of those two characters (namely Bubbles), Ace, and Professor Utonium are trademarks of Craig McCracken's creation and animation style. Dexter and Deedee are trademarks of Genndy Tartakovsky's creation, and Craig McCracken's animation style.

* * *

Harmony Bunny Land, 7: 30 a.m.

"Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, bouncy…" Chibi Bunny said, repeating the word "bouncy" every time she hopped. She looked back to her barely-caught up friend, and shook her head in disappointment. "Come on, Bubbles," she said to her friend, "or we'll miss the wedding!" She hopped two more times, and looked back again. "Besides," she added, "you're the justice of the peace! You are the one who must read to them the Happy Bunny Love Book," the rabbit continued.

"Okay, Bunny, I'll run ever faster on my tippy-wittle-tippy toes," replied the ever-optimistic Bubbles in a very corny mannerism.

Bubbles and Chibi bunny were now rushing to a wedding they'd somehow managed to, in a turn of events involving anthropomorphic animals (except for humans themselves), animated rocks, talking flowers, and a diamond ring that constantly chimed, "Love, love, love, la-la-love, la-la-love… makes the world go 'round," (which could annoy the hell out of a Buddhist monk), set up together. Now, Professor Utonium was to be married to Miss Keane, and the wedding was being held today, in Harmony Bunny land, in the garden of singing daisies.

Finally, after thirty minutes of wading through tall grasses and flowers, they got to the destination. The wedding was being held outdoors, a pedestal reserved for Bubbles in front of the arrangement of benches. Each bench served as a pew for a guest, each one a person Bubbles knew, (with the exception of the Townsville villains), seated in proper alignment with one another.

Professor Utonium, with Miss Keane in hand, stood before the aforementioned pedestal, as the two engaged persons looked into one another's eyes with love. They wanted so desperately to kiss each other, yet to do so would only ruin the tradition of a proper wedding.

"Hi, Everybody!" said a happy little Bubbles and Chibi Bunny simultaneously as they walked toward the front.

"Hi, Bubbles! Hi, Chibi Bunny!" everyone in the audience joyfully replied.

Chibi took place in the front-right bench, right next to Blossom. Bubbles then floated up to the pedestal, and cleared her throat to get the two lovers' attention spans. They turned away from one another's faces forcefully, and looked forth upon the justice of the peace. After having gotten their attention, Bubbles looked upon the faces of both newly weds.

"Are you two ready?" she asked. They both nodded.

"You have no second thoughts?" she inquired once more. Again, both nodded.

"Good," said Bubbles. She reached into the shelf under the bottom of the pedestal top, grabbed the Book of Love, brought it up to her face, and set it upon the pedestal. She flipped through the paperboard pages (with some trouble, due to her lack of fingers) and, having found the proper page, proceeded to read aloud the wedding sermon.

* * *

Backstreet Alley, 7:30 a.m.

"You ain't gots no chances o' beatin' me, Broccoli-face," said Ace, leader of the Gang Greengang.

Buttercup hated that name- obviously, that was Ace's titular method of addressing her light-green eye and blouse color.

She replied, insulted, "Oh, yeah? I've put you down countless time before and not gotten scratched, and when you do scratch me, I end up warping your face tenfold!"

Ace just smirked.

"And besides," Buttercup continued, "what are you doing comparing me to a piece of broccoli? You're the one who looks like he's got algae growing beneath his skin!"

Now Ace was the one on the receiving end of the disses, and he didn't like insultation of his person. He ran toward her, pulling a nunchuck out of his jacket into his right hand as he ran. He started to twirl it as the distance between him and Buttercup closed in, and by the time he had run just four meters after the initial twirling, the nunchuck was visibly and audibly cutting the air. The distance between the two greens decreased rapidly.

Buttercup had expected this, and stood her ground- he had to be at the margin of her arm's length for this move to work. As Ace closed the distance between them, the nunchuck seemed to almost glow with heat as it gained speed, now making an audible lightsaber-like sound as it twirled. The distance between them decreased ever further.

Upon twenty meters, Ace's speed was gaining, and his nunchuck looked like it was going to fly off any second.

Upon fifteen meters, Ace was running half as fast as Buttercup herself when she flew, and his facial features were impossible to identify. The only thing with which one could use as a method of distinguishing him was the flashing of the nunchuck. Buttercup merely smirked, hardly able to wait to use her new kata combo.

With a mere seven meters between them, Buttercup was feeling uncontrollably twitchy, adrenaline pulsing through her blood with anticipation of the use of her new counter.

One meter left. Ace swung the nunchuck at Buttercup with the hand he held it in. Upon his right hand coming forth, Buttercup arched backward, the light flash passing right over her face, leaving a temporary burn in her retina. This left Ace open as he recoiled from his nunchuck hitting air rather than its target, and he jerked his head backward to avoid getting hit by his own weapon as he transferred it to his left hand, the still-hot iron just barely missing the his own sinus as he did so.

Just as the whirling metal passed by her, she sprang back up, hitting Ace right in the opening on the side of his temple with relatively light force as the weapon transferred hands. The force caused Ace to lose hold of the nunchuck as he was shot forward by the punch, sending him flying twenty meters and turning one hundred-eighty degrees on his x-axis. This was, however, not the main highlight of the hits effect; as Ace was shot forward by the force of the hit, his nunchuck, now airborne, made relatively light contact with his left shoulder, resulting in several audible, simultaneous, "CRACK-CRUNCH" sounds. He flew into some trashcans, denting them upon impact. He let out a light groan as he held his broken shoulder.

Buttercup simply watched as the nunchuck flew to the left, taking out a few bricks in a wall as it did so. She then looked back to Ace, noticing his agonized state. She loved it when he suffered for his crimes.

"Serves him right for being so evil," she said to herself.

_'Good always triumphs over evil, so why do all these evil people constantly try to do evil if they're just going to get their limbs torn out,'_ she asked herself inwardly.

_'Eh, I guess they're just a bunch of thick-headed morons,'_ she answered to herself, and proceeded toward her prey.

She walked forward until she stood towering over the wounded Ace. He looked into the Powerpuff's eyes as she leered into his own, both trying to intimidate each other, and neither one succeeding or backing down for eight minutes.

* * *

Algernon Laboratories, Inc. Laboratory Building 2A5-EI7, Floor 2B, Chamber 15-1U, 7:30 a.m.

Blossom looked through the lens. This had to count- she was dealing with a tiny zygote, hanging onto the thread of life via supplement in a Petri dish. Hence, the cell was delicate, and her tools were no different. A single, light shiver of her body could cause the cells ever-delicate organelles to be bashed and killed. She analyzed it, remembering the graph her classmate and assistant, Dexter, had formulated and presented to her. Blossom was to not aim dead center, for if she did, she could kill the nucleus, and the team would have to do the whole procedure all over again. She was calm now, and her actions now under perfect control, her movements as smooth as tendons of a blackbelt. Slowly, Blossom began to poke around with her needle.

Slowly, she drove the needle into the zygote, at the angle specified by her assistant. She had to get it into the membrane and just barely touch the area in which the developing child was stored, without actually touching the nucleus. Now that she actually had the needle inside the zygote itself, tiny vibrations of her body would be even more hazardous than earlier; one wrong move, and the cytoplasm and organelles would spill everywhere, destroying one million dollars' worth of investment.

Ten minutes later…

"Whoo-hoo… Finally done!" proclaimed a relieved Blossom Utonium. She had just extracted the inner zygote, pulled it out without scratching it, and put it into the main cloning tank. She looked upon the egg, now growing quickly into an embryo, soon to be a fetus, and soon after a baby, until, at one point, it would finally become a new little girl, just like herself.

She just watched the egg grow for a while and, having satisfied herself upon the sight of her work, left the main room and headed into the small quarters she referred to as the "wreck room" (despite it being as tidy as an unused machete), and made herself comfortable as she pulled out her peanut butter jelly sandwich, and started eating. Yes, the stress was over, and now, she was the happiest six-year old scientist in the world. Nothing could go wrong now…

She had not taken three bites when she heard a familiar accent in the project room at a volume easily rivaling that of a Crush 40 song done by Chemical X-powered cicadas. "Deedee!!! Get a-back-a here RIGHT NOW!!!"

Blossom sighed. Dexter was a nice assistant, but when his sister, Deedee, stalked him to the lab, things fell apart. Deedee always pressed any button and pulled any lever she could find an icon on, inquiring its function, and ultimately ruined anything going on. She would then say she "got it", only to forget what she claimed to learn, and reactivate the device upon her next visit.

It seemed nearly impossible to perform any scientific procedure or engineering feat when Deedee was present. If it was an experiment, she would irreparably ruin whatever served the purpose of a variable, independent or dependent. If it was a project, she would mess with the binary coding one of the machines used in the midst of her ballet practice, and the expected outcome would result in a robot which, rather than reading an individual cell's Ribonucleic acid patterns, or simulating emotions, or harnessing and molding out precious metals, would perform two x-axis-based three-sixties and land in a delicate two-step, followed by self-destruction.

Dexter had, many times, built things like fortresses, gates, containment cells, and turrets in order to keep out his sister, but she always surpassed these obstacles, and ended up finding her way into the lab.

However, Blossom and Dexter could get a lot of work done, and even Deedee knew when whatever they were doing was "very important," and she could, with difficulty, restrain herself from bringing the place crashing down around the triumvirate's ears. Of course, that isn't to say she could keep herself on a leash for as long as the two needed her to- only for so long.

The voice of Dexter, and his sister, filled Blossom's ears once again.

"…Look, Deedee, I know I get mad at you for ruining our projects and our experiments, but most of the stuff you play with valuable and almost impossible to replace, and more importantly, most of it is dangerous. I don't want my only sister getting hurt."

Blossom, still listening from the wreck room, smiled to herself. It was difficult to see Dexter and Deedee getting along, but when they did, it was a wonder to behold, and those two wouldn't conflict for about two weeks after every time they made up.

"-Sniff-… you really mean it?" Deedee asked, eyes watering. Dexter nodded. Deedee was overjoyed at her brother's lenience, and pulled him into a hug, nearly asphyxiating him in her arms.

"Thank you, Dexy-Wexy!" she said, squeezing her brother harder even. She continued, "I'm sorry- I promise I will never again touch another- OOHH, LLOOKKYY AT THE CUTE WITTLE BABY!!!" she exclaimed, and released Dexter to go for the new discovery. Dexter was too busy trying to breathe again to hear Deedee, so he had no idea what she was going for.

Blossom's eyes widened upon hearing those words. There was only one possibility for a "cute wittle baby" in the lab, and that was the subject she had just created. She zoomed out into the main operations chamber to get to the cloning tank before Deedee; she wasn't going to let her project get destroyed.

* * *

"Love, love, love, la-la-love… makes the world go 'round!" the last chorus rang. Everyone cheered and whooped in joy. That song was the second to the final thing that had to be done before Professor Utonium and Miss Keane- soon to be Miss Utonium- could finally kiss. 

Bubbles asked for silence, which the audience very kindly granted to her, as if her tiny little voice had the power of God himself in it. She then cleared her throat, and spoke out the last thing necessary to know before letting the bride and groom kiss and be officially married to one another.

"Now," Bubbles said, getting everyone's attention, "does anyone have any objection to the matrimony of this couple?" she asked, earning a horizontally shaking head in each and every guest.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice filled with innocence and assurance.

"I'm glad everyone in the audience is okay with this, but if you really believe that there has been any violation of the tenets of 'molarly' correct marriage, we are willing to listen, as long as you can explain your opinion," she said, the carefree audience not even caring she had just unintentionally mixed up an "L" and an "R" in her word usage.

Bubbles waited for a second answer, just in case someone who had not being paying attention to the question was willing to answer with a "yes". She didn't really expect anyone to respond, nor did she wish for anyone to, but for the sake of her reputation, she had to ask the rhetorical question.

* * *

Ace and Buttercup continued to leer into one another's eyes, each one refusing to be intimidated by the other. This had been going on for eight minutes straight after that thirty-second nunchuck incident. Finally, after a long moment of silence, Buttercup spoke up. 

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't just kill you right now, Ace," said the confident Buttercup.

Ace simply smiled. He reached beneath his jacket with his right arm, and pulled out what looked like a small, chainmail bag with a tag on it. Buttercup recognized what it was immediately; a pyronic hand grenade, or to be more specific, a mass destruction model with the capacity of fifty-two-and-a-half claymore mines.

"Because, spinach-goil, if you land one hit on me, my grip on this grenade will go off, and barbeque us both. You may be a Powder-puff goil, but even you'd get warped up pretty bad by this here bad boy," responded Ace.

Buttercup didn't respond; she was at loss for words.

"So if I was you," he continued, "I'd get outta here, and not try any funny moves while I'm at it."

Buttercup knew he wasn't bluffing; he may not know very well how to use a vending machine, but he was pretty smart for a street punk, and manipulative if given the opportunity. She also acknowledged that, for all his merciful begging earlier when he was at the fingertips of defeat, he knew when actual death was imminent, not unwilling to take his enemy with him in a situation with such a linear outcome. Taking his "advice", she slowly backtracked out of the ally, staying in his sight so he wouldn't think her to be trying to get in a sneak attack.

* * *

"Nooooooooooooooooo!!!" screamed a horrified Blossom. She had zoomed to the cloning tank to prevent Deedee from ruining it, only to find the specimen's heart failing, and as a result, it had halted development at the "baby" stage of development. 

This was a million-dollar project, and it was supposed to reel in enough money to pay back the investors with the original amount, 1.5x that for interest, and extra tax for each of the materials she had actually bought with her own pocket money that she had promised to pay back later along with the interest. She had even spent weeks in the park selling lemonade- selling lemonade- for fifty cents a cup just to buy that microscope, all because she couldn't trust the project to bring in enough profit to pay off the interest and tax for that later, had she added that to her list of loaned materials. Now, she would never be able to take another loan from any one of the companies again, and she could no longer work at Algernon Laboratories.

She now looked blankly upon the cardiograph monitor, now swollen in mortification of how this would look on her resume when she attempted application for another job.

"Hmmm… and yet I wonder…" she murmured. There was one measure she could take, but it was risky. It ultimately consisted of sending a powerful voltage level throughout the tank, which could get the heart beating again, but there was also the risk of killing the specimen. However, she had no choice, and millions of dollars were at stake. She reached for the lever and pulled it. The tank flashed several times with the transmission of the electrical currents within its Plexiglas walls, and Blossom now looked at the cardiograph in wait for a response, occasionally getting in light glances at the specimen. All she could do now was wait.

* * *

The Powerpuff Girls' House, 7:40 a.m.

"Bleep-eep-eep-eep-eep-eep…" went off the blaring alarm clock of the Powerpuff Girls' room, which one could hear from one side of the house to the other.

"WHICH ONE OF YOU UGLY DISGRACES TO HUMANITY DARES TO OPPOSE THIS PERFECT MARRIAGE?!" screamed Bubbles as she shot out of bed with full thrust of her body, enraged that someone had taken up on her offer to object to the matrimony of her father and her teacher.

"NOOO! ACE, I-I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING YE-HE- HET!" screamed Buttercup in unison with Bubble's high-pitch squealing, followed up directly by sobs of fear, knowing death was imminent- even a Powerpuff Girl cannot survive mass-destruction weaponry.

Finally, about ten seconds after Bubbles and Buttercup had burst out of their sleep, Blossom began to cackle as she raised mummy-style out of her bed. "Yes…yes… the monitor is bleeping… It's alive… IT'S ALIVE! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!" cackled a maniacal Blossom.

Professor Utonium rushed into the room after hearing the screaming, whimpering, and supposed cackling of his girls. He burst into the room, ready to hurt anyone who dared to harm (or, in the case of Blossom's cackling, offer an illegal drug to) his little angels.

He kicked the door open, Resident Evil 4-style, and landed in the best fighting stance he could muster.

"Girls? Girls, what's going on?" he demanded to know, ready to pummel the first name they answered with, if they answered with one.

* * *

Townsville Prison, 8:24 a.m.

Mojo sighed as he sat alone in his cell. Visiting hours were to start in five minutes, and while that would seem a short time to many, waiting when you have a plan you actually think is going to work is like an eternity. "For some reason," he said, "it seems when you're young and want to stay immortal, undying, time passes too quickly, mere days, weeks, years even, passing within a few blinks of the eye. Then, when you get older and want time to hurry up so that your new plan can initiate, which would be the current case of being, which is to say I do have a plan and want very much to initiate it, a second seems like longer than an entire lifespan..."

He was interrupted in the midst of his monologue by a crackling sound echoing throughout the prison, followed by a female, yet not effeminate, voice which resonated itself lightly as it spoke.

"Attention. Visiting hours shall now commence, and shall end upon noon. Only one visit or phone call may be permitted per occupant. Calls may be a maximum of thirty minutes. All visitors must be..." the voice continued onward with the rules and regulations of visiting hours.

Mojo smiled to himself, both inside and out. Life does go by swiftly as one thinks enough of the world around them to find themselves absorbed out of that world, Mojo concluded; obviously, he did not consider his own repetitive, beat-around-the-bush speech patterns as he made this conclusion, though he was ultimately correct.

Hardly any prisoners actually took up the opportunity. At 1:00 p.m was when all prisoners were required to head out to do their community service, and they wanted to use that time to work out, exercise, and rest for the roads and interstate highways they were going to find themselves working on. Besides, there were few who would savor the ideal of getting a call from most of the prisoners in there, and no one really seemed to be coming in to visit the prisoners.

Mojo got out of his bed, walked out of his cell door, which a prison guard was reluctantly holding open, and went off to speak to the head office. His new idea- and going through with it- was all he could think about now.

* * *

The Powerpuff Girls' House, kitchen, 9:07 p.m.

_-Crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch-... GULP!_ This was the sound repetitively echoed by three hungry girls as chomped on their Lucky Captain Rabbit King cereal brand. The professor just watched with a hand on his chin, hoping he get a clear answer out of his daughters after they had eaten some breakfast. Earlier, all he got were some indistinct answers from his girls, and while he knew they had experienced some bad dreams, he wanted to know what kind of mental images could drive them over the edge so.

The three girls finished up their cereal with a single, big gulp of the remnants of their bowls contents in unison, and each wiped their faces with a napkin. A five-minute long moment of silence followed, and the girls looked at their father, waiting for him to ask them of their outbursts, as each one planned a way to summarize their dreams. They had received some shouts across the street, so it was pretty clear everyone within the surrounding two blocks could hear the sounds.

"So," the professor said, breaking the silent air tone, "I think the three of you know what I'm thinking." Buttercup and Blossom hung their heads down, Buttercup from shame and Blossom from trying to remember her dream, the latter being something very difficult after actually getting out of "the zone". Bubbles was anxious to explain what she remembered, in hopes of the professor deciding to take it as some form of advice. All three sighed, with whatever emotion was behind it.

"Girls," the professor said caringly, doing as he could not to invoke any negative emotions, "I'm not mad at you or anything for all that noise you made- I'm just worried about what could have caused it. There's nothing to even reassure you to not be ashamed of."

If there was one major weakness in Professor Utonium's personality traits, it's that he was incredibly protective of the girls- if they came home crying or injured in any way, he wanted to know what happened, and do almost anything in his power to prevent it from happening again, even if it was just a nightmare. If Blossom, Bubbles, and/or Buttercup were on the receiving end of a negative situation, he had trouble sorting out what was a big deal and what wasn't. For him, even a dream was something to worry about if it had influence over his children.

"We know, Dad," the girls' voices responded in unison, though with Blossom's being spaced out and barely audible due to her deep thought, Buttercup's being brunt and sharp due to ongoing shame that a simple grenade- especially in a simple dream- had frightened her, along with her having to share it to prevent her father from getting overly suspicious or concerned, and Bubble's high-pitched, optimistic voice from anxiety to share her dream, it seemed like you had to pick which "we know, dad" to listen to or it sounded like indistinct, semi-Latin gibberish.

"Besides, it seems that whatever disturbed you is still troubling you, so wouldn't it be better if you talked about it?" Professor Utonium asked, now inwardly wanting to _demand_ responses out of them.

The girls could tell he wasn't going to take "no" for an answer, though only Bubbles actually remembered it. If they didn't inform him of what they did remember from their dreams, he would hound them and, being the big-deal-maker he is, do things only god himself knows about as precautions. Besides, their eyes were still somewhat heavy, and this could pass the time until they shifted into first gear.

" Alright," Blossom said, "I'll start."

"Oh, good." The professor replied. "So, what made you so happy? You were laughing like you had just won the lottery!"

Blossom summed up what she remembered, and spoke.

* * *

Townsville Prison, main office, 9:26 p.m.

"Wait-wait-wait a minute." the office man said. He had a feeling Mojo would come up to him, but for the main purpose of complaining. He didn't expect Mojo to call anyone, and he certainly doubted anyone wanted a call from him. The officer continued.

"So you're telling me that there is someone out there who _you_ want to call?! I mean, are you sure they're going to like it?"

Mojo sighed. Honestly, it was only six months ago that he had started being a regular visitor to the prison. It isn't like he was trying to break the tenets of American Society... well, not now, anyway. All he wanted was to use the phone, and this chairman was acting like he had heard his grandfather had died.

"Yes," Mojo said, swallowing his annoyance, "I would like to call someone who would not mind the call, from me, reaching the ears of them, which is to say the ones I wish to call, who would not be offended."

The chairman was puzzled, but, in knowledge of how long a conversation with Mojo generally takes, he did not want to ask any more questions.

The man opened the door into the visiting chamber. "The phone's right over there. You got thirty minutes." he said, pointing at the phone in a small, doorless, four-by-four-by-four meter room. Mojo headed on in, taking deep breaths from the humidity of the small, claustic chamber.

797-7833, he typed in. The phone let out a repetitive beeping sound, as he slipped a small pen and notepad from out of his cap to record what he was about to hear... hopefully.

* * *

The Powerpuff Girls' House, 9:32 a.m.

"Aw, Buttercup, I thought you were over that!" said Bubbles. Buttercup glared at her; when ANYONE brought that up or even made a vague implication of it at any time, her fingerless knuckles popped and she turned red from both anger and blush.

Buttercup responded, keeping herself only barely from pummeling her sister right then and there.

"We... were fighting, Bubbles..." she said in a singsong tone, so as to make the annoyance more apparent than the embarrassment.

"And after you beat him up, what did you do? Did you give him a wittle kiss on the-"

"Bubbles, I swear to God, I will kill you right now if you don't stop patronizing me!" yelled Buttercup, about fed up to the brim with Bubbles teasing her about Ace. Buttercup had held a crush on the leader of the Gang Greengang about four and a half months ago, and she regretted it. The problem was that Bubbles had never let go of it.

Bubbles was insulted her own sister would threaten her.

"Buttercup, can you even take a little joke?" she asked, slightly annoyed with her sister's overreaction.

"It gets kind of old after the TENTH TIME YOU BRING IT UP!" responded Buttercup.

"Stop fighting!" Professor Utonium yelled, silencing both of the quarrelers.

"Bubbles, stop tormenting Buttercup about that old incident." He looked to the other Powerpuff. "Buttercup, stop threatening your sister." he continued.

The two girls exchanged glances, Buttercup giving a "watch your back" look and Bubbles giving a victorious one. They looked to their father, opened their mouths to respond, and...

"-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-..." the Powerpuff Girl Hotline rang upstairs like a siren, earning the attention of the whole family.

"I'll get it!" exclaimed Bubbles as soon as she heard it, and she got out of her chair quickly and zoomed up to the girls' room.

She opened the door, levitated to the small table in the middle, and landed in front of the phone_. Phew,_ She thought, _saved by the phone. _She knew Buttercup could be ruthless if she lost her temper, and she wouldn't be the first one to suffer for invoking such wrath from her sister, had she slipped. She turned her attention to the still-beeping phone, reached for it, put her hands on the arch, and lifted it to her head.

"Hello?" she asked, as is common courtesy when one first picks up the phone.

Mojo immediately recognized the high-pitched voice as that of Bubbles. He cleared his throat to make a very shy voice, contradictive to the deep, gritty, resonating voice by which he is almost immediately recognizable.

"Hello there, is this the Utonium residence?" Mojo responded.

"Indeed, it is, sir," Bubbles answered.

"Ah, yes... well, may I speak to Professor Utonium?" Mojo asked.

"Of course, sir." she responded politely. "And whom shall I say is calling?" she asked.

Mojo just wanted to get to the answers as soon as possible, so he said the first appropriate thing that came to mind.

"Oh, it is no one- just a curious stranger." he said impatiently.

_'My goodness, will this little rat stop stalling around and give the phone to that damned professor already?!,_ Mojo thought to himself.

After three seconds, he heard a high-pitch voice scream, "PROFESSOR!" Mojo beamed with anticipation. Bubbles continued, "There's a stranger on the phone!"

Mojo began to tremble. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to introduce himself as a "curious stranger". It wasn't like most friendly callers to simply introduce themselves as strangers. If the professor thought him to be a solicitor, or maybe a serial murderer, or, worst of all, a sexual offender, Mojo's plan was down the drain.

Mojo heard the crumpling, muffled sound a phone makes when a subtle sound, as a rustle or a breath, is made into it. He turned pale, fearing he would be hung up on.

"Hello, Mr. Stranger, what can I do for you?" Utonium said in a professional, businessman-like tone.

Relieved that the professor did not have any contemptibility for the unidentified inquisitor, Mojo cleared his throat again (he had lost hold of his 'voice streak' in his nervousness), and replied, putting a very shy demeanor in his voice once again to prevent himself from seeming like some kind of anxious stalker.

"Um, hi," he said, "I'm a freshman from the Townsville Community College, and I'm doing a report on the Powerpuff Girls, and I was just wondering..." his voice trailed off as he picked up his pen and notepad. He continued, this time in his standard voice, now ready for whatever he was about to get for an answer, with a gruff, "what exactly are those little girls made of?"

The professor smiled inwardly. He hardly ever got calls from students of the Townsville Community College where he worked, and he was more than willing to share what he knew to help a potential graduate pass.

"Oh, yes, the Powerpuff Girls," he repeated, digging through his head, "Ah yes, let's see now. Well, I used eight cups of sugar, one pinch of spice, one tablespoon of everything nice, and, now this one's important..." Mojo listened closely to get the last ingredient. The professor continued, "... Accidentally add a droplet of Chemical X, and Voila!"

"What, that's it?!" Mojo exclaimed as he dropped his utensil and notepad, shocked and disappointed that he went through all the trouble of dealing with that annoying chairman and being escorted through the prison halls just for that.

Mojo pulled himself together and realized how this must sound to the professor on the other line.

"I mean, wow, thanks," Mojo corrected, not really caring much about who the professor thought the "curious stranger" was at this point.

"I also have a great recipe for ground meatloaf." the friendly professor added. He heard static after two seconds. He shrugged, hung up, and headed back downstairs to speak with Bubbles about what she had dreamt of.

* * *

Townsville Prison, 9: 46 a.m

Mojo thought as he headed back to his cell. "Sugar, spice, and everything nice?" he repeated to himself.

"I do not have access to those ingredients." he said to himself. Indeed, this was true; he had no access to sugar, nor did he have anything with the potency of Chemical X, he had no idea what kind of spices to use, and what people considered to be "nice" was something on which opinions may vary. Besides, girls have a one-track mind that is difficult to change or re-inform after getting started on something.

"Ah, it is too girlish anyway." he said, additionally displeased with the concept of having feminine children. It isn't that he didn't think a girl couldn't fight (otherwise he wouldn't be thinking about this in the first place), but girls can be very troublesome if they aren't taught what they're intended to be.

"I need something tough, hard, more-" he looked upon the men working out in the gymnasium he was passing through. He suddenly got an idea.

"Manly..." he finished off. He recalled something he had heard in a nursery rhyme before about the composition of little boys as well as little girls. Having remembered it, he rhetorically asked himself aloud, "what are little _boys_ made of?"

* * *

Townsville Prison, 9:00 p.m.

Mojo looked upon the ingredients in his hands; snips, snails, and puppy dog tail tissue.

The "snips" were his hairs, which he had clipped off of his own body. He had intended at first to use the hair of the other prisoners, but it was hell to get- besides, Mojo wanted some of his genes to be in this creation.

The snails were from some escargot he had gotten earlier for a lunch session. It was apparently a special every Thursday, though he had not noticed until just recently.

The puppy dog tail tissue had been ripped off of the tail of the obnoxious talking dog who served as a prison guard for a temporary job. Despite the pain one expects from having their hair ripped out, the dog seemed to only barely mind. Afterwards, Mojo had plucked out the attached skin tissue at the roots, and discarded the hair, wanting the snips to be purely his own contribution.

"Hmmm... snips, snails, and puppy dog tail," Mojo reviewed, "so all that leaves is Chemical X."

_'And something to stir it...'_ he mentally noted to himself. He looked around the room for either. There had to be something with the potency to stir the ingredients or act as Chemical X. A bed... hell, no. A chair... honestly, was fate itself against him? A toilet... good gracious, like that's going to-

"Wait!" he exclaimed to himself, as if he was getting left behind by someone. He set down the ingredients, ran over to the toilet, and wafted the water, inhaling the foul scent like a perfume.

"Yes," he muttered. This would be perfect for stirring his concoction, however... deappetizing it may seem. He felt his stomach become rather uneasy, but ignored it. "This will definitely work for stirring," he said. "Now," he continued, "all I need is Chemical..." he recalled his own system had traces of the material from when he was caught in the effects of the reaction in which the Powerpuff Girls were made, which meant that some of it must still be in his hairs. It wasn't nearly enough to make him as strong as a Powerpuff Girl, but it was the only thing he had available for the moment. He smiled, summoned up some of the noxious gas he had inhaled earlier, and coughed it with his saliva into the toilet. He figured his snips would do the rest for the Chemical X. He flushed the water down once, so the waste would not intervene with the creation, and asked a passing guard to have a janitor clean out the toilet.

With that, Mojo went to his bed for a quick nap for until the rest of the prisoners went to sleep for the night. He didn't want anyone other than himself to witness the birth of his new weapons.

* * *

Townsville Prison, 11:40 p.m.

Mojo held the ingredients above the toilet mouth, desperately trying to retain the contents of his stomach due to the horrible scent. Even after being flushed earlier, the stench was still unbearable.

"The ingredients are ripe," he proclaimed, "and the moon is in full and most proper alignment. Let the seeds of 'evil' bear through!" he continued, now actually considering his actions to have slight immoral value. With that he dropped the materials in, and flushed the toilet.

_'About time someone did,'_ Mojo thought. Of course, it already had been flushed away, and earlier he had had a janitor come in and clean it out, but it still had a foul odor, as aforementioned. The stench now having been flushed away again with the foul waste, Mojo, now finally able to breathe as much as his lungs could carry, stepped back to take in the (relatively) fresh air. After about three inhalations, he looked to the toilet, and waited for some mutilated, masculine, monstrosity of artifice to rise out of it.

He waited past midnight...

1:00 a.m…

2:00 a.m…

By the time the clock hit 2:30 a.m, he had gone off to bed, and he had fallen into a deep sleep.

It was a shame he was such a heavy sleeper, for at 3:00 a.m, he could have heard a faint, subtle sound...

..._-Thud-Thump...

* * *

_

Phew, finally! Sorry it took so long. That chapter was hell to write, even for when I had a good amount of free time on my hands. That isn't even to mention that this is about the fourth time I have reposted this story. I hope you liked this chapter. I know how those few of you who have been tracking this story have been looking forward to the birth of the Rowdyruff Boys (don't we all?), so your wait is almost at an end. The next chapter, called "Waking Up, Breaking Out (Named after the Julien-K song, "Waking Up"), will introduce the boys, and I might very well decide to alternate between third-person omniscient view and first-person view (from Brick's prospective, since he's my favorite) in order to expand the possibilities of description and iteration.

Once again, while I restrain myself from actually demanding reviews, I would appreciate them. Please tell me what you think of the story, and maybe that little membership thing I mentioned up in the disclaimer body, though I care more about responses to the story. Quite frankly, while I know I shouldn't care, I am a teenage boy. I may not understand the concept of friendship (yes, I am an antisocialist) and I certainly think romantic material should be restricted to literature (if even that), both of which personality traits making me superior to most boys my age, but, for some reason, some sort of inner human drive makes me want my ideas to still be at least noticed. I am also sick of all these romantic and erotic stories getting most or all of the attention of the audience while other authors with equally great and/or superior ideas and writing skills, who also need an opinion or two, fall by the wayside.

Anyway, that's all I had to say, so please review the story. Please tell any friends you may have who like Powerpuff Girl fanfiction stories of this article (unless they are anti-Rowdyruff or anti-Mojo fans), and I look forward to seeing what you have to say.

Until next chapter, readers!


	5. Waking Up, part 1

Here is the fifth chapter! Thank you very much for your support throughout this story, Miss Onototellingoyou and Miss Shockhorror. Both of you have given me incredible boosts of morale with your reviews.

Well, here we are at last! You have read through the four chapters. I have novelized, expounded, and reenacted the events of the twelfth episode of the Powerpuff Girls. Now, that part just about everyone has been waiting for is finally here!

Just a minor side note- in this chapter, I will repetitively alternate between a third-person omniscient point of view and first-person point of view. The first-person point of view will be from Brick's perspective. I will attempt to make it obvious what segments of the story will be in which perspective, but due to my very limited experience with first-person point of view, I might not do so well.

In addition, as you may have noticed, this chapter will be split into two parts, due to time constraints, personal impatience, and other reasons I cannot quite shake a stick at as of this moment.

All right, dear audience- I myself can hardly wait to do this, so let's get on with the disclaimer. After that, we shall commence launch!

Mojo Jojo and Brick are owned trademarks of Craig McCracken and his team. I have no copyrights to any of it. I am simply a young author trying to novelize a cartoon I happen to be a fan of. Here we go.

* * *

Townsville Prison, 4:15 a.m.

"All right, people, rise and shine," the warden yelled as he strutted through the prison halls, waking up the entire place. Every morning in the prison was like this. The warden went through the halls, taser gun in hand, with armed prison guards following him, as he would call the prisoners to come out into the hall single file. Each of the armed guards following him opened the cages of the prisoners, and each one struggled out of bed and waded into queue, careful not to invoke the weapons of the prison guards, so role call could be taken and the day could start.

"Ya'll hear me- get up an' at 'im!" Mojo's eyes slowly opened. He jumped out of his bed, stretching out his chest and back as he did so.

He slowly waded out of his cell, but not before looking back to the toilet one more time. It wasn't broken into pieces; there was no kind of biological monstrosity waiting for him to give it any orders. All he saw was a polished toilet. He was a fool- he had failed at something that could not be successful.

He sighed in disappointment. His entire dream had been crushed. He had been so expectant, so hopeful, so sure of his new creation. How could he have been so damn stupid? He actually thought for even one second that hair, dog skin, and a few cooked mollusks would join together to form life? And, of all things, in a toilet?

He should have known better than to be so dull. He should have asked the professor _how_ the girls were made, not just from what. Then again, that would have been too suspicious… oh, what did it matter now? All his hope was gone; there was nothing left for him. He would be doomed to suffer that nightmare, that horrid memory, for the rest of his life; never again would he have even a chance to neutralize his vengeful lust.

_Thud-Thump_

_Thud-Thump_

Wait- did he hear what he just thought he heard? It sounded like a-

_Thud-Thump_

A heartbeat. And from the sound of it, three of them at beating in synchronized unity. He wondered; maybe there was hope yet?

"Hey, chimp boy! What are you doing? You gonna take something out of there and throw it at me?" the warden joked, laughing at the tragic villain genius.

Mojo heard the warden, but chose to ignore him. He kept his eyes on the cauldron, a new hope now in his mind.

* * *

Unknown Location, 3: 00 a.m- 4:15 a.m

_Thud-Thump,_

_Thud-Thump,_

_Thud-Thump,_

Oh, m-my-my head... I-It feels so light…

_-Thud-Thump-_

I take in what I feel around me. I am suspended, but not weightless. I am being pushed down on by something on top of body, yet being slightly pushed up as well. However, I feel weightless, not squeezed. My feet are pressed against some kind of gritty, shifting surface, supporting some of my sinking weight.

I feel numbness spreading through my body. I feel a sort of pressure in my chest, a very uncomfortable feeling, like I am imploding or something. There is an instinct telling, pressuring me, to open my mouth and suck in the air around me.

And so I do. I suck in a sample of the thick, inhospitable fluid I am suspended in. My chest becomes heavier, and the feeling only gets worse.

Quickly, I cut off the breath, preventing the fluid from flowing into my lungs entirely. I begin to cough and gag, trying to get it out of my lungs. I manage to squeeze my lungs with intense force, pushing out much of the fluid from my body. Nonetheless, I still feel myself drowning, choking.

_I am beginning to asphyxiate… the air is too thick... I need fresh atmosphere..._

The thick air is making my body ache... I need to get fresh oxygen or... I'll-I...

I actually don't know what will happen, but I know this; the thickness of the air is putting too much stress on my heart.

_I can also hear someone else gasping for breath..._

I desperately look about. I look around for some kind of light, listen for an inorganic sound. I can't find anything. But wait...

* * *

"Mojo Jojo, stop looking at that thing and get the hell out here!" yelled a very agitated warden. He didn't like being ignored, especially by Mojo.

Mojo simply continued to stare, hopeful and dumbfounded, at the toilet.

The warden had about had it with Mojo's disobedience. No one ignored him and got away with it- no one.

"All right," the angered prison head master yelled, pulling out his taser rod, "if you think you can just escape your shift by staying put, you got another thing coming, you dumb piece of bushmeat!" he finished as he stomped toward the cell door.

* * *

I look behind me and see a small ray, a column, of light illuminating the floor below me. My eyes follow the white trail, until I reach the source; there is a tiny, tiny, tiny crevice in the ceiling, which seems to be shooting the small, aforementioned beam out. I wonder... maybe there is some fresh air on the other side of that crevice? If this is the case, then it is obvious I have to get through to the outside...

_...I am beginning to tire out..._

The chance I will be capable of getting to the other side- or that it is even a key to an air source- is thin, but, the case being that I just woke up and don't know anything about who I am or how I got here, I am willing to trust anything, even assumptions. Besides, I think it would make a bit of sense, and I really don't have many options, now do I?

Still, I know I have to do something. But how was I going to get to and through that thing? That crevice was way up there, and I, in stark contrast, am way down here. Besides, I can't even see two inches in front of me, and I can only barely stand up. Suddenly, I get an epiphany.

_What if I shot myself up and broke out?_

For some reason, I suddenly think- out of the blue- that if hit by a lot of force, it will break open. And, if I recall correctly, the muscles in my body can exert force. Maybe even enough to break right on to the outer world. Maybe even enough to propel me up to there. As before, I am not sure, but, again, what other options do I have?

I concentrate. I begin by stretching out my leg muscles, and stiffening the thighs. Then, I crouch on one knee, both feet embraced upon the ground beneath me. I aim my body so it a line parallel to my back is aligned with it. I bend so dramatically that the fluid around me begins to tremble. I think some of the vibrations may be coming from two other sources- one to my right and one to my left- but I am more concerned about getting out of here.

* * *

The toilet began to rumble, water spewing and coughing out of the opening.

"Yes, yes, yes…" Mojo mumbled to himself. Finally, he had made a situation and achieved the expected results.

The warden opened up the cell door, and stomped toward Mojo, turning up his rod to full power. He was furious now, his face a light red. He _hated_ anyone who tried to deny him, especially stupid, lowly, son-of-a-bitch animals.

* * *

I decide I am in the right position. I stiffen the already-bent muscles in my leg, pull back one of my arms, and lock onto the target with the other one.

"Now?" I hear two voices ask. Before I can summon up a reaction, I find myself thinking, "Now."

"Okay," I hear them reply. How odd; I didn't reply to them, I only thought about an answer to them. I didn't use my mouth to-

_Ergh… ugh- cough-cough_

I must dwell into this later, when I can find good breath. My body fairly positioned, I pull in my legs once more, and finally, I straighten them out again quickly, and… SWOOSH… I am propelled upward, shot up at the hole, as expected, by the force of my jump. The thick fluid surrounding me pushes back on my face and body as I continue to fly up to the speck, but the momentum from my lunge overcomes the fluid resistance.

I continue to fly into the speck until...

* * *

"Err…" Mojo moaned painfully as he got up from the ground. He had taken ten hits from that taser, weakening him physically, though he refused to go with the warden still.

"All right now, chimpy boy. You gonna come? Or do ya still wanna play?" asked the zoosadistic warden. Every prisoner around had gathered around to spectate and savor Mojo's suffering, and the warden didn't mind at all.

"Well?" the warden asked again, in a chastising manner.

Mojo looked up to the prison head, only scowling in response. The warden just smiled.

"Very well," he said, taser still in his twitchy right hand. "It's time to-"

_C-c-c-cccreeeeakkkkk… splot!_

A long, moaning gurgle sound filled the prison, earning everyone's attention. The warden looked to the toilet, where it sounded to be coming from. The waste disposal machine was leaking at the seams, flooding the entire place up.

The warden turned to Mojo. "What the hell did you do?" he demanded to know.

Mojo simply looked to the warden with an evil grin on his face as a response, and looked to the toilet again. He knew what would happen now.

Instead of attacking Mojo again for not answering his question, the warden began to panic, rushing out of the cell and back to the main entrance of the prison. He knew that something bad was going to happen, and he didn't want to be there- especially if it had some input from Mojo Jojo.

Suddenly, the whole place fell into a few seconds of silence. Everyone but the panicked warden continued to look at the toilet, or otherwise stood motionless… except, of course, for the janitor.

* * *

...WHAM!

* * *

Without warning, the toilet burst open, water shooting out like an enormous geyser. Mojo shielded himself and held his breath as the torrent of water filled the cell, and eventually, the whole prison. The water hit Mojo like a maddened river, pushing his back against the bars.

People in the prison panicked and ran around helplessly as the water flooded the prison and drained out the doors and windows. People held breaths, looked for escape routes, and wondered what was causing the flood.

* * *

Well, sorry about how short that was. I know, it's not very detailed either. Sorry about that, the entire chapter is pretty long in itself. That's why Waking Up, Breaking Out is split into two parts. Don't worry; part two has already been started on.

Anyway, please review. The second part will be up soon, but only if I get a review!

Until next time, dear audience!


	6. Waking Up, part 2

Well, here we are: the sixth chapter of my story. Finally, Mojo sees his creations for the first time, though they don't see him- at first.

The superchapter "Waking Up, Breaking Out" will be at least three parts. As a result, though, the third chapter may be shorter than this one. I hope this keeps you satisfied for now.

I do not own any of the licensed material in this chapter. Mojo Jojo, Brick, Boomer, Butch, and the city of Townsville are all copyrights and trademarks of Craig McCracken, the best comedic cartoonist I've ever known.

* * *

Townsville Prison, 4:16 a.m

My body breaks some kind of hard matter, and I feel chips and pieces scatter all around me. It's so bright out here, I must squint my eyes to avoid being blinded. I also feel slightly heavier. I must have made it to the outside world.

I find myself coughing up the thick fluid that had been trapped within my lungs, a sheet of the vile matter spilling out before me. After it all, I inhale forcefully, taking in all the air my lungs can carry. The air does not choke me; just as I thought, it's safe to breathe. I hold in the air, keeping it in as long as I can, living off of it for a few seconds. However, after a while, I feel it beginning to disappear, gradually replacing itself with that same feeling I had in that small, confined space earlier. And of course, I am very well aware of what that did to me.

So, with this in mind, I exhale. I do it rather shakily, but nonetheless, I relax as I let the air flow smoothly out of my lungs, in a stream, moving out of my trachea, into the mouth, out from my lips and into the air, as an opposition to how I had to cough the heavier air out of my lungs: with force, vigor, and pain.

I inhale, I exhale, inhale, exhale, and inhale again as I feel some kind of development branching out throughout me. I wonder… what is the catalyst for that?

_Thud-Thump_

Hmm… that odd, perpetual resonation in my chest… it must have something to do with it. Every time it pulses through me, I feel my blood course through my body, sending a soothing sensation of warmth, comfort, and yet, invigoration through my system.

Wait a minute… what am I saying, what am I thinking?

_I just realized…_

I know the answer to my question, but it is one of so many more…

What, exactly, is a "head"? What is "exhale," what is "inhale"? What is "chest," and what is blood? What are warmth, comfort, and invigoration?

_The head is an extrusion out of the top of my body, out of which I see._

Somehow, I know what I just said to myself in my mind.

_To exhale is to let air out of my chest; to inhale is to take more air in. The chest is the center of my torso, and blood is a liquid flowing through my body._

I even know what all these words mean as I speak to myself.

_Warmth…is a light sensation… like a sting, but massaging. It is a lesser variant of "hot," which is almost entirely a stinging sensation, and slight soreness…_

_Comfort… is physical or emotional satisfaction with a current situation, or a sensation of calm pleasure…_

_Invigoration… is energy… a sensation causing an inner obligation to move one's muscles. It is like comfort, but instead of calm, it is an urge to act._

I know the meaning of all these words, and all the words I use to answer my own questions.

My muscles feel very tight, very stiff. By impulse, I push myself off of the ground with my arms and knees, my torso and leg muscles pulling and pushing me upward. This environment is far different than the hell I was trapped in earlier. Instead of being suspended in weightlessness, I am pulled down by a force of some sort I cannot register. Yet, somehow, I stand up without too much trouble.

Well, since I'm here, maybe I should take a look around. After all, I need to gather some clue where I am now, don't I?

I slowly open my eyes and take in the sight around me. My vision is somewhat blurry, but at least the light is no longer too much for my eyes to handle. All I can make out are grey columns off in the distance. The hard floor beneath my feet is a very light-grey color. The supposed ceiling is a very dark grey.

I simply stand, motionless and unsure, asking myself questions.

For one thing, what is this odd language I speak in? All these chirps, stutters, hisses, moans, sighs I imagine myself saying when I think… why do I understand them? I know them; not just their definition, not just how to pronounce them.

I know what they are purely by heart, like a language I have known all my life. I know how to pronounce these words, these sounds, and these syllables. I know what syllables to emphasize and stress, and which ones not to. I know what they mean, I know how to arrange them, and I know how their definition and purpose can change, enforce, and alternate, as I rearrange them in set patterns and orders. I know homophones, synonyms, antonyms, and so many more.

In addition, whenever I think about one of these so-called "words," these odd little shapes and drawings appear in my head. It's just so odd…

Just what is this dialect, this language? How did I learn what these things mean? What are these words I am using? And what were those voices that spoke to me earlier, in that dark room?

Just who am I, anyway?

These questions and many more I ponder as I remain in a fixed position, staring into the oblivion of my confusion.

* * *

"Pant-gasp, pant-gasp, cough-cough-cough…" Mojo gasped for breath. He had held his breath, yes, but he had only been expecting to be submerged for two seconds, not a minute.

Mojo attempted to open his eyes to see the result of the flood, only to have them stung by filthy, hexxus-stained water rolling into them off of his forehead, causing him to squint his eyes for a reaction.

He wiped the water out of his face and off his forehead with his matted, wrinkled hands, pushing the fluid out of his eyes as it dripped onto the floor.

Mojo now slightly cracked his eyelids apart, albeit still squinted and somewhat squeezed together, as a measure for keeping any spare droplets out of his eyes incase they rolled back in.

Nothing invaded his eyes; nothing stung them. Mojo now opened his eyes just a little more, but wiped them a bit as he did so with his hands. He slowly brought his hands down from his face, now supporting the weight of his torso with them. He could now see a little bit of light, projecting down onto the floor from a window just above him.

Mojo was not the forgetful sort, nor one who ran from his actions; he knew what had caused the flood- or at least he thought he did. He remembered how he had put the hinted ingredients for little boys into the cauldron- snips, snails, and puppy-dog tails, plus the Chemical X in his snips to provide the extra power- and he knew the byproduct must be right there, in front of him- maybe even waiting for orders.

Mojo's train of thought was disrupted by a large shadow towering over him, blotting out the light coming from the window. Mojo continued to inhale deeply for breath, but if he could, he would smile; finally, he had done something right.

Mojo knew, however, that whatever his creation was, he must be cautious. Since it was new to the world, and may have the imprint of male testosterone in it already, there was no telling how it would handle pressure or doubt. For all he knew, it could be ready to thrash anything that came within two meters of it- or it may be just a tiny, undeveloped version of what it was destined to become.

However, Mojo had to face it eventually. After all, a ruler must know what his subject is, must he not? Besides, as wary as Mojo may be, he was curious to know just what his invention looked like.

Slowly, Mojo brought his eyes up to look upon the monster before him. Excitement coursed through him. Would it be muscular? Would it be fast? Would it have greater power than the girls he hated so much?

As his head slowly tipped upward, he saw the shadow branch into _three_ shadows, rather than the one gargantuan he had expected.

Things were just getting better and better for him. He knew now that he had three masculine weapons rather than just one. This was excellent; one minion to combat each one of the girls, and if it turned out that each one was more powerful than one Powerpuff Girl, he would have an easy victory.

Finally, his gaze rose full as he slowly pushed himself up off of the ground, pulling the breadth of his vision upon the three figures before him.

Mojo's vision was still a little hazy from the humid air and the short-term effect of the hexxus of the water, so he could not make out anything of the appearance of the blurs before him immediately, besides the fact that the colors of the figures were, from right to left; blue, red, and green.

_Oh, dear,_ thought Mojo. Could these three possibly be who he was afraid they were?

As Mojo's sight cleared, and the lines and details of the three figures became sharper and sharper, the appearance became clear. Mojo could now think of only one way to describe the sight he now.

Three young children- three beautiful, young children.

* * *

Sorry that chapter was so short. It would have been a lot longer had I not decided to split the superchapter into more than two parts.

Anyway, please read and review. The next chapter will be up soon.

Until next time, audience!


	7. Waking Up, part 3

Well, here we are. Yes, it took sinfully long for me to update, so I'm sorry. Most of the time, I either have writer's block, academics to attend to, or I just can't access the computer at all.

This chapter is fairly short, since it's basically a subchapter of the "Waking Up" Superchapter.

On a side note, if I have received any private messages since March 23rd, 2007, I'm very sorry if I haven't responded yet. My email account had reached the "limit" of how much it could carry (which is probably the company's nice way of saying, "buy an email program for yourself from us so you can get all the mail you want!") since I hold onto most of the private messages I receive for sentimental reasons, but I have summoned up the willpower to reluctantly empty my inbox.

Hence, if you wish send a PM to me now, please do. However, there is no telling if my email account can be trusted now, so copy and paste that message into a document for safe keeping, just in case.

Anyway, let's move on with the disclaimer, yes?

I do not own Brick, Boomer, Butch, Mojo Jojo, Blossom, Bubbles, Buttercup, or any other characters exhibited and/or referenced in this chapter or the preview of the next one. All are copyrights and trademarks of Craig McCracken, the only cartoonist to make cartoon shows actually worth watching as far as I know (well, there is Liberty Kids, but that got canceled…).

Here we go.

* * *

Mojo stared upon the three youth, annotating their abnormal body build. All three of them looked very well near identical in the main structure of their body; each one had a large, somewhat rounded head shape, with large eyes on either side, no visible nose or chin, and a small slit in the bottom-middle of the face which could only be inferred to be the mouth. None of them had any visible digits on their hands, and their ankles seemed to just barely be present. 

Mojo simply stood, trembling and shivering, as he beheld the sight before him. Partially, the shivering was because of how cold the water streaming off his body and caught in his fur was on his skin. After all, the water was very hot, and while the prison environment itself was humid and warm (not exactly the first choice for a yeti rehabilitation clinic) the liquid which had flooded the prison was far hotter- near boiling, even- so when the water drained away, it had an uncomfortable effect not unlike the sensation of pulling oneself out of a hot spring after being inside for ten minutes. The fact the temperature of the water had left some small burns on Mojo's skin didn't exactly help, either.

However, the main percentage of his shivering was from the fact he had no idea what these things before him would do; he was cautious, forcing himself to be afraid so he wouldn't do something stupid. There was no doubt they could be violent and dangerous, and of course, being strangers in a new world, were probably scared, confused, and willing to unleash the energy that fear and paranoia instilled in them upon anyone who got close to them- a feeling Mojo himself could sympathize for.

Upon closer inspection, Mojo noticed that they looked familiar to him…

"_Just give it up, Mojo"_

"_Yeah, you'll never beat us… so there."_

"_The Powerpuff Girls never lose!"_

These figures also seemed to resemble-

_No,_ Mojo thought, mentally slapping himself, _don't even think that!_ He tried not to let his three second-worst nightmares infest his head, not now. He didn't want to deal with the insecurity and fear he had been forced to go through throughout his whole life- or at least, he wanted to deal with as little as possible- and thinking even for one second about the girls made him wish he was dead.

And, indeed, it may be possible for him to get his wish; the water had probably caused many unlucky prisoners and staff to drown or get burned. That would have been murder- the first successful one he ever committed- and that in itself would be enough of a charge to earn him the death sentence without a trial.

However, these beings didn't seem aggressive or ready to fight at all. The figures didn't seem twitchy or impulsive, and they showed no signs of hostility. In fact, they didn't even seem to notice him, or even each other, for that matter. Instead, each one seemed to be staring off into space, not knowing what to do. They were nearly motionless; their breath was the only noise coming from them, and the motion of each one's diaphragm and the blinking of their eyes was only visible movement they seemed to make.

Mojo realized these couldn't be the girls- the shades of their eyes and shirts were too dense and dark of colors to be any one of the Powerpuff Girls, and each one wore long, black pants with shirts rather than the tall stockings and blouses of the girls. In addition, each one seemed slightly shorter than a Powerpuff Girl, and each one had shorter hair, as well as different hairstyles.

But the main difference was the key that even allowed all other observations to add up to this conclusion: these children were beautiful, and calming to look upon. Of course, Mojo was forcing himself to feign fright so he wouldn't do something to provoke them immediately, but inside, he felt soothed. When he looked upon the Powerpuff Girls, on the other hand, he saw horrid, mutilated mockeries of God's privileges to what humanity should be allowed to achieve.

As Mojo achieved this realization, he immediately changed his atmosphere from making himself feel pseudo-horror to a feel of calm. His eyes widened, his worried frown turned to a beam, and he covered his mouth with his hands, his heart racing in ecstasy, as he registered what he had just done:

He had just made life.

At that moment, Mojo did something unexpected: abandoning- no- forgetting his caution of the hazard these children potentially posed, he sweeped them up in his arms and pulled them into a tight embrace.

* * *

So just who am I, anyway? I mean, I'm standing in a room of some sort, staring off into oblivion, and I don't even remember my own- WOAH! 

I am caught off-guard by some kind of black, hairy thing grasping me and dragging me over. Panicked, I immediately try to plant my feet on the ground so I can resist, but I can't even touch the surface I had been standing on just earlier.

With no other option, I close my eyes and wait for this thing to do whatever it is it wants to do to me, fear and confusion pulsating through my mind.

I feel the large pole pull me into what felt like a large, wet lump of fur and some other kind of rubber-like matter. I just remain motionless, squinting my eyes even more, waiting for some horror to happen, and… nothing happens. I just continue to feel the tight, soaked matter around me.

Slowly, I open my eyes to see what it is that has me in a hold. The image I see turns from a black, red, and blue abyss to a cloudy blur. I assume I was squinting so hard that I just practically squeezed my eyes into the back of my head. However, I can make out the clouded silhouettes around me: a large, black thing and an olive-green mass are the constrictive forces surrounding me, presumably the things that had pulled me in. I also make out colorful shapes- two of which green and two of which blue- changing and shifting in form and size.

As my vision clears out, I manage to make out the image with more detail. I stare at where the colorful masses were earlier, and see them as they are.

Instead of blobs of liquid, the lights are eyes; each pair of matching color embedded into a large, rounded, manila head. They seem so familiar to me… I wonder if…

"Ahh…" I hear a calm, baritone voice whisper from above me. I look up to the source of the words. My back is to what I think is the body of the creature that has me in its grasp, so I have to kind of tilt my head to the side to see it.

When I finally do get a look at the source of the words, it's the weirdest thing. It has a large plane on the front of its head, which I infer is the face, somewhat like those other two beings it has in its grasp along with me; and yet, if it is a face, then it's misshapen. It has two very small eyes just above the horizontal midpoint of the face; it has bulges and angular projections all over, a big mouth near the bottom, and two diagonal slits in the middle of its face, just below the middle of the two eyes.

I just watch the creature in awe and confusion. It has us in its hold, but what does it want with us? It doesn't seem to be hostile or anything. I wonder if it can give me some insight…

_Ugh…_

My train of thought is broken as I feel the creature's arms tighten around me ever further, pushing my breath out a bit. Whatever this thing intends to do us, it probably wants to go through with right now. I'm not sure why it just wants to crush us like this, but there is one thing I do know: it must be a threat. And it is doing away with us, slowly and painfully.

As I think about this, some kind of sensation fills my body and mind. At first, I feel paralyzed with something, and my breath grows short not from the tight embrace of the creature, but from the fact I seem to have stopped breathing altogether. My body feels cold, and the propulsion in my chest slows down a bit. It's like the feeling when I was trapped in the water earlier, but magnified.

Suddenly, as quickly as the drowning sensation had come upon me, the said propulsion in my chest speeds up, each pulsation more powerful than the last. My breath returns and actually becomes deeper and quicker than it ever was before.

Immediately, everything goes black.

* * *

When I open my eyes, I find myself holding the creature by a loose piece of white-and-black skin that has apparently come loose from its body. I can tell by looking into the creature's eyes that it isn't scared at all. It seems shocked, more than anything else. 

I also acknowledge that I feel a sensation of weightlessness in my body. I wonder if I'm in the water again? I'm still breathing just fine; what's the deal?

I only have to look down to find my answer: I am suspended in mid-air. At first, I think I am suspended on some kind of cable or pillar. And yet, I feel no tugging, and I don't feel the crushing sensation of being pushed against the floor.

It only takes a few seconds to register the situation before I realize what the case is:

I am floating. Not suspended, but literally levitating. It feels like I'm free to go anywhere, like every direction is at my command and leisure to take…

I snap back into reality upon hearing a choking sound and the feeling of cold hands upon my arm.

* * *

Well, there you have it. Flames are welcome.

Until next time, audience!


	8. Breaking Out, pt 1

Well, here we are: Breaking Out, Part One. Sorry I don't expand on this, which is what I should do. However, breaking this down into multiple parts should make it easier to read out.

Now for the disclaimer:

I do not own Boomer, Brick, Butch, Mojo, or the Townsville Prison. All are copyrights and trademarks of Craig McCracken's genius and Lauren Faust McCracken's co-genius.

Let's get started. As before, if you see an error, please mention it in a review or private-message me, and I will update the chapter with the error corrected.

* * *

First-person point of view 

I take notice of the creature I have in hand. It seems to be choking under my grasp. Perhaps this beast has some association with how I got here, and why this odd language is going through my head.

I am startled suddenly by a desperate attempt by this creature to grab my arm- probably for the purpose of making me let go of it. I manage to break its action by giving it a violent shake.

"Hands off!" I hear someone exclaim as I jerk the creature's uniform. At first, I think it's the beast in hand, but its mouth does not move. I look around for the source.

Up, nothing but a ceiling.

Right, Left, nothing but walls.

Down, I see the two other figures smiling back at me.

It occurs to me that I am the one who said it. It's so odd to hear your own voice for the first time.

I feel my grasp on the animal slip, so I grasp it again.

* * *

Third-person omniscient point of view 

Mojo stared in utter disbelief at the young child holding him by the scruff of his prison uniform. He had not counted on the children fighting back, let alone levitating. He began to doubt these weren't the Powerpuff Girls.

"Let go of me," Mojo managed to choke out, hoping it would appeal to the beast of a child's better nature.

"Hah," the boy exclaimed.

"You think you can tell us what to do? Just who do you think you are, anyway, pops?" the boy asked Mojo rhetorically.

"Ugh…" Mojo gagged as he struggled to breath. Mojo was beginning to choke, and he could die if he did not do something quickly.

"Why, yes," Mojo wheezed, "I am your… FATHER!!! CHILDREN!!!" Mojo yelled at the top of his lungs, sending a startled boy tumbling on the floor to the company of his look-alikes.

First-person point of view

I looked at the creature, startled that it had managed to use simple sound to send me to the ground. I still wonder what that word means. Pops? I don't even know what that is. Apparently, though, it is synonymous or in close relation to a creator.

I feel like fighting back at its fighting back, for a reason beyond my comprehension. Before I can respond to what it just said or did, though, the life form with blue eyes and shirt and yellow hair steps in front of me.

"H-hey," it stuttered. I can tell it's as confused as I am, and possibly more intimidated.

"We aren't babies," it continued, putting one foot in front of me. I think it's trying to defend me in so doing.

"Oh," the organism said amusedly. "Then just who do you think _you_ are?" it asks us, in apparent rhetorical status.

I exchanged glances with the green figure, and then the blue figure. They seem to know me, and they seem familiar to me in turn. I begin to get this name pulsing through my head repetitively.

_Rowdyruff Boys…_

_Rowdyruff Boys…_

_Rowdy-_

Suddenly, without thinking, I exclaim, "we're the Rowdyruff Boys!" I think the other two said it as well, but I'm not sure.

Suddenly, I felt the need to make a statement of titularity for myself. Of course, that is rather odd, considering that's basically what I just did, but I think that name applied to the three of us collectively. What I'm thinking of now is a name for me individually.

"I'm Boomer!" the blue one cries out suddenly, startling me due to the lack of warning. I think that this child has just stated what I want to state for myself: a title for his individuality.

After I recoil, I think deeply, reaching inside to find a name for myself. After all, the one I, from now on, shall know as Boomer said a name for himself. Why can't I?

"Brick," I hear a voice say. I pull my head up, looking for the source of the sound, but can't see it. The voice, however, sounds like Boomer's.

"What are you waiting for? Introduce yourself," it continues. I look back, and sure enough, Boomer and the green one are looking at me anxiously. They must be the ones who were speaking to me just now. Hence, my name must be…

"Brick! My name is Brick!" I exclaim out loud. I look to the green one, who is apparently relieved that I have introduced myself finally. He then steps forward and announces himself as Butch, as if he had been waiting for me to introduce myself before he would.

The green animal with black fur looks at us in awe. I assume it did not expect us to have names in mind after the traumatic water incident. Quite frankly, neither did I.

"So," I ask, getting up off of the floor, dusting myself, "you never answered my question. What is your name?"

"Oh," the creature sounds in a state of apparent surprise. "My name," the beast continues, clearing its throat, "is Mojo Jojo."

"I see," I say calmly. Now, I want some answers. How do Boomer and Butch know me? How and why do they continue to speak to me? And how did I get here? Who was I before I came out of that aquarium?

I decide I'll start with Mojo, and now that Mojo is acquainted with us- and we, with him- perhaps he will be willing to give me a few answers.

"All right," I tell him, cracking my fingerless knuckles, "I have a few questions for you."

"Oh, really?" Mojo chuckles in amusement, unphased by my gesture. "Well, I've got a few answers."

* * *

Well, there you go. Please review- Flames are welcome, mindless praise is tolerated, but by all means, informal compliments (meaning, you tell me what you liked about it, like Miss Shockhorror does) and constructive criticism (telling me what could be improved) is more welcome than anything else.

Until next time, readers!


	9. Breaking Out, pt 2

Okay, after a long wait, this chapter is finally here! It's about time, isn't it?

Well, time for the disclaimer. I don't own Boomer, Brick, or Butch. I don't own Mojo Jojo or Townsville, either. I do, however, own the warden.

Here we go!

* * *

4:25 am, Townsville Prison

"Cough-cough-cough," gagged the warden as he opened his eyes. He wiped the hexxus-stained water out of his eyes as he spat and coughed the vile fluid out of his lungs, watching the particle-stained water splatter before him.

"Ugh…" he grunted as he pushed himself off of the ground and into to the air. "What just happened?" He looked around at his surroundings after his vision was no longer blurred. He saw a cage behind him, and a sign that read "exit" hanging lopsided on a hinge and sparking above a door graced his right. Even the door itself was crooked.

The warden tried to remember what had happened to lead him here.

It was obvious the place had been flooded, but by what force in nature could such a large place be flooded all the way to the ceiling? Last he remembered, he was running at full pace to an emergency exit, apparently aware something was going to happen, prior to the flood.

So, he had been aware of the fact that something less than fortunate was about to transpire, but how? He had no forewarning of it, unless he was psychic- which he highly doubted.

Wait… he did remember something…

* * *

"_Err…" Mojo moaned painfully as he got up from the ground. He had taken ten hits from that taser, weakening him physically, though he refused to go with the warden still. _

"_All right now, chimpy boy. You gonna come? Or do ya still wanna play?" asked the zoosadistic warden. Every prisoner around had gathered around to spectate and savor Mojo's suffering, and the warden didn't mind at all._

"_Well?" the warden asked again, in a chastising manner._

_Mojo looked up to the prison head, only scowling in response. The warden just smiled._

"_Very well," he said, taser still in his twitchy right hand. "It's time to-"_

_C-c-c-cccreeeeakkkkk… splot!_

_A long, moaning gurgle sound filled the prison, earning everyone's attention. The warden looked to the toilet, where it sounded to be coming from. The waste disposal machine was leaking at the seams, flooding the entire place up._

_The warden turned to Mojo. "What the hell did you do?" he demanded to know._

_Mojo simply looked to the warden with an evil grin on his face as a response, and looked to the toilet again. He knew what would happen now._

_Instead of attacking Mojo again for not answering his question, the warden began to panic, rushing out of the cell and back to the main entrance of the prison. He knew that something bad was going to happen, and he didn't want to be there- especially if it had some input from Mojo Jojo.

* * *

_

Mojo Jojo! He had done something to flood the place by using the-

"Ugh- disgusting!" the warden exclaimed as he wiped off what he now recognized as sewer line water.

The warden looked to his pocket. He still had his taser and his gun. He remembered the number of Mojo Jojo's cell block. And he was angry. It was time to make Mojo pay for what he did. Whatever he had hoped to accomplish in flooding the prison was moot and futile.

* * *

4:26 am, Mojo Jojo's cell

"So, let me get this straight, Mojo," Brick said, spewing out Mojo's name with obvious distrust. "You created us in this object you speak of called a toilet?"

Mojo nodded.

'Well, that makes perfect sense, I guess,' thought Brick as he put a hand to his chin and looked down to the ground. 'That explains why everything seemed so unfamiliar to me. But what is this language I speak, and how do I know it upon immediate birth?'

"Well," Brick started again, putting his hands at his side and returning his crimson orbs to Mojo, "if that's the case, then how-"

"Mojo Jojo!" A voice yelled from nearby. "Get out here with your hands up!"

Mojo immediately identified the voice as the warden's, and gasped.

"Listen to me, and pay attention," Mojo stammered to the Rowdyruff Boys, "It is not safe to be here at this moment, which is to say that to be here and stall for time is dangerous, and the most unnecessary-"

"Then why do you keep repeating yourself?" Brick asked, his eyes half-closed in annoyance.

"That is beyond the point! We must leave, quickly, and make haste in doing so!" Mojo snapped.

'How convenient. Our own father is a coward,' thought Brick. Of course, he would later learn where all that fear came from.

"Actually, we're pretty much out of uses for you," Brick said, earning Mojo's widened eyes as a reward.

"We have an impulse to spill blood now," Brick continued, causing Mojo to back up into the bars.

"And since your corpse is the only bag of organs around, we'll start with you!" And with that, Brick and his brothers started walking towards Mojo, who's usually olive-green face was now as pale with fear as printing paper.

Mojo was out of ideas. Now, he had an angry warden coming up behind him, and three monsters about to kill him coming to his front.

'Well,' Mojo thought, 'this is the end for me.'

Mojo spent his last moments thinking about what had caused him to get himself into this situation.

Was it foolishness?

No. Mojo refused to accept himself as being foolish.

Was it bad luck?

Mojo didn't believe in luck, so no.

Was it the Powerpuff Girls?

Yes! If it wasn't for them, he would not have been forced to make these monsters, and he wouldn't be in this-

"Hmm, the Powerpuff Girls…" Mojo muttered. He had an idea now…

"Say what?" stammered Brick, stopping in his tracks.

"Boys," Mojo said calmly, "You don't want to spill my blood," Mojo said.

"Why not?" demanded Brick.

"Because my blood flows with the same malevolence and hate that yours does. But I know who's fault it is that you are here," responded Mojo.

"It isn't yours?" Brick clarified in a questioning and almost mocking tone.

"No- well, yes, but I was forced to do it! I had no choice!" Mojo shot back.

"You better start talking, monster," said an interested but impatient Brick.

"What you want," continued Mojo, seizing the moment, "is to spill blood of those who deliver justice!"

"Yeah?" Brick and Boomer asked, interested in his words. Butch just smiled and tilted his head.

"You want blood which courses with the evil that is called nobility?"

"Yeah," said Boomer and Brick again unsurely, once again in unison.

"You want blood which flows with delusions of peace and love. The blood you want to spill," said Mojo, now venting with hatred, "Is that of the Powerpuff Girls…

* * *

Brick's POV 

So, Mojo says we should destroy these quote-on-quote "Powerpuff Girls"? Most interesting.

Well, I really don't know what exactly to do or say. On the one hand, if Mojo is useless now, which he probably is, then why should we spare him? I'm feeling pretty dang violent right about now. Besides, I don't even know what "justice", "peace", and "nobility" are, so how do I know he's just not trying to trick us? On the other hand, though, I really have no idea where I am or what to do. I don't even know what I am alive for, or why, exactly, Mojo Jojo created me as he claims to have done. Besides, I guess I'd like to know just what- or who- these "Powerpuff Girls" are. Besides, the very fact I don't know what "justice," "peace," "nobility," or "love" mean is, if anything, more of a reason to than a reason not to spare his life. Maybe he could teach me.

I look to the two fellow creations that are my brethren. Yes, Mojo told us we are "brothers," a word that I can only guess means that we happen to have some kind of connection to each other. They nod in subtle agreement.

Boomer, Butch, and I raise our hands into the air, as if in triumph, and exclaim, "Let's get 'em!"

"I'd be happy to take you to them," started Mojo, "if we only had a method of getting out of-"

I don't give him time to finish. I swiftly grab his shirt collar, and bend my legs so I can make another jump into the air, and I lightly push myself off the ground to get into the air. My brothers are way ahead of me, as can be told in that Boomer and Butch burst a hole in the roof prior to my reaching the surface myself. As I fly out through the opening, I catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of what appears at one glance to be some deformed, warped version of myself, my brothers, and Mojo- but I pay it no mind. Not that there's any need, anyway.

* * *

Third-Person Omniscient point of view 

The warden had suspected it for a long time, but he never thought he would see the day when it showed itself. But it did.

There they had been. The three who had promised to protect the city, to protect the people, had now allied with Mojo Jojo.

The warden looked at the hole in the roof of Mojo Jojo's cell for a while. An expression of shock turned to a scowl. After a few minutes he turned tail and left. The Mayor had to know this at all costs.

* * *

Well, there you go. Flames, constructive criticism, and justified praise are all accepted! Just please, no mindless praise, okay?

Until next time, readers!


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